From the Wreckage
by Flagg1991
Summary: After a horrific auto accident, Luna nurses Lincoln back to health, falling in love with him along the way. Cover by Raganoxer.
1. Round and Round

Lincoln was smiling when he climbed into the van, a sly grin that you only wore when you pulled a fast one on somebody. When he saw her, his face fell.

"Sorry, dude," she said, "it's taken."

Sighing, Lincoln sagged and moved to the back, closely followed by Lola, Lana, and Lucy.

On road trips, especially as short as the one they were about to undertake, Luna didn't really care where she sat, just as long as it wasn't near Lori; Lori got carsick and _every single time_. Luna could deal with a lot of things, like the messiest, smelliest diapers, but she couldn't do puke. Sorry. No way. Baby puke...yeah, gross but manageable. Grown ass adult puke? Not even a little: Seeing it was okay, but _smelling_ it...yeah, screw that. She'd rather wear a shitty diaper on her head than even be in the same room as a pile of barf. Hell, there was this awesome club in town that had indie bands on Friday nights, but she stopped going because people would get drunk on piss warm beer, mosh, then hurl all over your shoes. Yuck.

Other than that, she wasn't hard to please. She'd sit in some gum. Whatever. It really wasn't a big deal; when you live with twelve other people, you eventually learn to relax. The sweet spot _was_ kinda nice, though. You got your own window to roll down, you had circulation, dad couldn't see you putting your feet on the back of the seat...yeah, the sweet spot was rad. Everyone else was all uptight about it, though. Like, they'd fight and claw each other coming out the door just to get to it first. Last time, Luan elbowed Lynn right in the mouth and busted her lip, and Lynn retaliated by kicking Luan's legs out from under her and knocking her down. She couldn't lie, it was funny, but it was sad too. Like damn, chill, we're just going across town. Luna didn't really _mean_ to get out the door first, it just happened; hey, has to happen to someone, right? And being first, yeah, she slid in. Whatever. She wasn't about to go all Fury Road with her siblings for it, though.

Lori climbed into the passenger seat, and Leni slid in next to Luna. Dad got in behind the wheel, his phone pinned between his shoulder and the side of his head. "Yeah...no, Lynn's staying with Lilly, I have the others with me. Yeah. We'll be there in twenty minutes. Love you."

Mom was waiting at the airport, fresh off a business trip to San Francisco. Luna was kind of jealous: San Fran was where it was at. Haight-Ashbury...well, that was pretty much it as far as she was concerned. The Full House houses were kind of alright, and the Golden Gate Bridge was pretty cool, but hippie central was it, man. She'd love to go there one day and see where it was all going down way back.

"We're late," dad worried. He turned around and backed into the street.

"If Luan didn't insist on finding her Graucho Marx glasses, we'd be half way there," Lori said.

"Hey, I wanna greet mom right," Luan said defensively from the back. "Plus, Lisa's the one who blew up the house again. I would have found them quicker if my eyes weren't stinging."

"I am honestly surprised none of you have built up a resistance to smoke and noxious fumes," Lisa said, crossing her arms.

"Speaking of noxious fumes," Lana said. She leaned to the side and farted.

"Uh, gross!" Lincoln yelled.

"You're disgusting!" Lola cried, holding her nose.

"You know what they say," Lana said, "better out than in."

At an intersection, they stopped, then turned right, heading for the interstate. Luna slipped on her headphones and put on music, melodic guitars and pounding drums drowning out the squabbling of her siblings. She gazed out the window, nodding her head in time to the music: It was a beautiful early June day, and everyone seemed to be out enjoying it. It had been a mild Spring and summer, with temperatures barely getting out of the high sixties. It rained more often than usual, too. Smoke it while you got it, they said.

Luna grinned at herself. Okay, maybe that didn't apply _exactly,_ but it was close enough. Someone tapped her on the shoulder, and she took her 'phones off. Luan was leaning over the seat. "Why do milking stools only have three legs?"

Oh, no. Not another one of these. She'd never rank on her sister's love for comedy, but, man, it made you wanna rip your own eyeballs out. Especially the puns. Sometimes she couldn't tell if Luan was stupid, or a mad genius,

"I don't know," Luna said, humoring her, "why?"

"Because the cow's got the udder."

Luan cracked up and hit the seat with her fist. Luna snickered. It wasn't that bad, plus seeing her laughing made _her_ laugh. "Not bad," she said, "just don't milk it, okay?"

Luna laughed harder, shaking her head. "Stop! I can't!"

Slipping her headphones back on, Luna glanced out the window just as they merged onto the interstate. A tractor trailer blasted past, and the van shook. She looked at Lori, who was deep in conversation with their father, making wild gestures with her hands. It probably had to do with Bobby; they were on the skids lately. All Luna knew was that Lori was really harping on his habits and stuff, which made her sound kind of like a bitch. "Bobby does this, Bobby does that..." She was a bossy thing, too. Luna was all for woman's lib and stuff, but damn, how are you going to have a relationship when you're just as bad as the husband in the fifties?

Though relationships and marriage were _waaaay_ far away for her, one of Luna's secret fears was ending up with someone who threw their weight around. A couple of her friends had boyfriends like that, and it looked miserable; they were always doing what he wanted because he'd pitch a fit if they didn't. Shit like that. Nope. That wasn't for her. Whoever she wound up with would have to be laid back like her. And unlike Lori. She tried to tell her big sis once that she was being pushy with Bobby, but she didn't want to hear it. Lori knows best and all. Guess that goes with being the oldest. You get to play middle management: You're a step above everyone else but still a couple steps below the bigwigs.

Luna pulled out her phone, switched to a different playlist, and leaned back. She saw Lori making wild hand movements, dad glancing in the rearview mirror with narrowed eyes (someone was doing _something_ wrong), and heard a scream. She looked back just as Lola crossed her arms on one side of Lincoln and Lana crossed hers on the other. Lincoln, shoulders sagging and head thrown back in a take-me-now posture, looked like he wanted to rip his hair out.

She turned back, saw dad's eyes still in the mirror, then, in a flash, spotted the tractor trailer ahead, its trailer jackknifing. A car slammed into its cab. Luna's heart jumped into her throat and she screamed. Dad turned around and spun the wheel hard to the left: The tires slid, and suddenly they were rolling, the world a sickening blur. The window exploded, shattering Luna with glass, and she screamed as shards ripped her flesh. Her seatbelt kept her from falling; it also pulled hard against her collarbone, eleciting another scream.

After what felt like a thousand tumbles, the van came to a rest on its wheels. Luan's head slammed against the window frame, and the world began to go gray. In the split second before she passed out, she saw a car hurtling toward them, caught a clear glimpse at the driver's horrified face, felt the impact.

When she came to, she was lying face down on the pavement, her body a patchwork of cuts, bruises, and aches. Her head swam, and when she tried to sit up, a wave of nausea crashed over her; she puked onto the asphalt and almost flopped down into it.

"Take it easy," someone said, laying a hand on her shoulder. She looked up at them, her head foggy and throbbing; the bright afternoon sun backlit them, and their face was shadowed. They could have been a man or woman.

"Wh-?" she started, but saw the van. It was sitting in the middle of the highway, the roof crumbled and twisted. The front end was obliterated, twinkling pieces of it strewn across the highway. Blood oozed down the side, staining the jagged metal. Lori was hanging backwards out the passenger side window. She looked strange. Luna squinted, and that's when she realized one of her sister's arms was missing.

The loud, piercing wail of approaching sirens filled the day. People were stopping and getting out of their cars now, running up to the mangled vehicles.

Luna looked away, and saw Leni sitting against the concrete divider, her chin lolling against her chest and blood flowing from a long gash on her head. "This hurts," she moaned.

And Luna, mercifully, blacked out.


	2. Nothing Else Matters

The world was a blur. Noises drifted to him. People yelling, sirens wailing. His mind tried to work, but it was slow, woolen. Something was sticking into the small of his back. At first it was annoying, but as minutes passed and the sounds increased, it became painful. Muttering, he reached under his back and pulled something away. That was better.

"We got people trapped over here!" someone called. Something was happening. Something bad. He opened his eyes, and winced at the bright summer sunshine streaming through the window; pain danced across his skull, and he suddenly felt sick to his stomach. He tried to sit up, but pain shot up his left leg. Why was he lying down? He blinked, and saw the ceiling of the van above him, only it looked strange, lumpy, like someone had pounded the metal inward with a hammer.

"Get those goddamn jaws!"

Jaws? Wasn't that a shark? He turned his head, and saw the back of the seat. He tried to move his leg, but the pain was excruciating, and he hissed over clenched teeth.

Suddenly the world was filled with a coughing roar. Metal screeched. What was happening?

Panting, he wracked his brain. They were driving, then...what?

Somewhere close by, someone moaned. Lincoln turned his head, and his heart dropped. Lana was lying face-down on the floor. She stirred, and lifted her head: Blood covered her face, and one of her eyes was swollen almost shut. In that instant, Lincoln remembered everything: Luna screaming, Lori yelling, the van rolling (how many times? Five? Seven?).

"Lana!" he said, trying to pull free; pain snaked up his leg. He was trapped. "Are you okay?"

She moaned, and flopped her head down.

Lincoln struggled into a half sitting position, clamping his teeth against the exquisite pain. Two men in fireman hats were sawing the door open, sparks showering. The saw fell silent, and Lincoln yelled, "Help!"

One of the firemen saw him through the smashed window. "We're comin', buddy, just hang tight."

The saw kicked on again.

Where were the others?

His heart skipped a beat. He threw his head left and right, but couldn't see anything. He laid back down and glanced under the seat: He saw the back of Lucy's head.

"Lucy!"

She didn't move.

"Lucy!"

He looked under the other seat, but saw nothing. "Lola! Lisa!"

Neither one called out to him. He pushed himself back into a sitting position with his elbows just as the saw cut out again. One of the firefighters threaded a metal cable through the broken window. Attached to it was a hook. He stabbed it into the door, stepped back, and made a signal with his hand. The cable pulled tight, and the door was ripped from its frame with a metal death cry.

"My sister," Lincoln said, nodding to Lana. "She's hurt."

"I got her," the fireman said. He leaned over Lincoln and scooped her up. The other took Luan into his arms. The top of her head was caked in blood, and she looked very small, almost like a baby.

Next, they took Lucy; she moaned as the firefighter picked her up. "It's alright, sweetie," he said softly, "it's gonna be okay."

A minute later, the other one climbed into the van, ducking his head. "Can you move?" he asked.

Lincoln shook his head. "My leg's stuck."

The firefighter got down on one knee and pushed the seat forward. "Now?"

Lincoln tried to move his leg, but the pain was too great.

Another firefighter appeared.

"Dave," the first said, "pull back on this while I slide him out."

Nodding, Dave grabbed the seat and pulled it in his direction. The other scooted past Lincoln and pulled him; he screamed.

"Grab an SB."

Dave nodded and rushed away, returning less than a minute later with an orange plastic board. They laid it flat, and, together, dragged Lincoln onto it; the movement made his leg hurt so badly that he nearly blacked out.

"Hey, buddy, stay with me. We're gonna get you out of here. Okay?"

They fitted straps across his legs, chest, and head, and carried him out: The day was hot, and the sun stung his eyes. He turned his head, and saw a fleet of ambulances, fire engines, and police cars blocking the highway. A man in a white shirt sat against a smashed pick-up, holding a bloody towel to his head. A woman in a blouse stood dazed near a cruiser while a cop wrote something down on a notepad. Closer, near the van, a body lie under a white sheet: His breath caught in his throat.

"Who's under there?"

No one answered him. Panic welled within him. _"Who's under there?"_

"Don't worry about it," Dave said.

In the back of the ambulance, a paramedic took his vitals. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine," Lincoln muttered, "except for my leg."

Another paramedic cut his pantleg away. Lincoln tried to lift his head to see, but he was strapped too tightly.

"Compound fracture?" the medic with the scissors asked.

"Looks like it," the other replied, pressing the business end of a stethoscope to Lincoln's chest. He then applied a blood pressure cuff to his arm and pumped it up. As they worked, Lincoln's mind returned to the form under the sheet; one end was saturated with blood. A horrible dread rose in his stomach. It was one of his family members. He just _knew_ it.

His eyes flooded with hot tears, his lips quivered.

"Everything's going to be okay," the medic taking his blood pressure said, doing his best to sound reassuring. "Aside from your leg you're looking good."

"W-What about my family?"

"I don't know," the medic said, "but I'm sure they're okay."

Lincoln blinked his tears away and tried to convince himself that the medic was right; it was someone else under there, not his father, not one of his sisters. It wasn't possible. But deep down, he knew it was someone he loved.

He closed his eyes and willed himself to sleep, to fall deep into the void and away from the horrors surrounding him.

It didn't work.

He was cursed with consciousness.

* * *

Sounds and images assailed her. Wailing. Sirens. People shouting. Her eyes fluttered open, and she was being strapped to a stretcher and lifted into the back of an ambulance, several men in white shirts standing worriedly over her. She tried to speak, but couldn't. Her head ached and her stomach clenched. One of the men slipped an oxygen mask over her mouth and nodded. "You're going to be okay," he said, his voice echoy and faraway. Doors slammed, and suddenly she was moving, her heart leaping into her throat. She grabbed handfuls of the sheet, but she was weak.

For a time, she drifted in and out of consciousness. A blood pressure cuff went over her arm; someone called out her vital signs, a jumble of numbers that were alien to her; she was being rushed through a set of double doors, the sun bright in her eyes. A rush of wind, and she was cold, so cold. She opened her eyes and winced as blind florescent lights flashed by on the ceiling. People in puke green scrubs rushed alongside her, a Hispanic woman with a white lab coat barking orders. She heard bells, beeping, someone speaking over a public address system.

"...female, roughly sixteen years of age...car crash.."

"...her vitals...?"

More numbers.

"Any internal injuries?"

"I don't think so."

She blanked out again, and came to as she was being parked near a bunch of gleaming medical equipment. Someone asked her if she could hear them, and she tried to nod, but the pain in her head was so bad that she hissed.

For a time, she was gone. She saw the tractor trailer jackknifing, saw the world spinning, saw Lori lying brokenly out the window, her good arm hanging inches over the pavement. Her other arm...oh Jesus, her other arm was lying on the shoulder of the highway, the wrist bent at an impossible angle. She came awake with a gasp, her heart pounding in her chest. A team of medical staff worked over her.

"Honey, can you tell us your name?" the woman in the lab coat asked; she could barely hear her over the ringing in her ears.

"L-Luna," she croaked after a minute. Her mind felt fuzzy, sluggish.

Someone shone a light in her eyes, and she winced. "Where does it hurt?"

"M-My head."

"Dizziness? Nausea? Ringing ears?"

"Yes."

"Alright, her vitals are good, no breaks or internal injuries. I want a CT scan stat."

Luna's eyelids felt heavy, and she closed them.

"Honey, stay with us," the doctor said.

"I'm here," Luna muttered. "I'm just tired."

* * *

She sat with her back against the retaining wall dividing the north and south bound lanes, pinching her nose with her thumb and forefinger. The bleeding had slowed but not stopped. She didn't notice. Instead, she stared sightlessly ahead, her hands trembling. There was a severed arm lying on the gravel shoulder. Near it, a man poked through the windshield of a Pontiac: He was covered in blood and limp. Firefighters worked to remove him, but weren't having much luck. She felt strangely detached, as though she were watching an uninteresting movie on television. She turned left and right. No. It was more like a dream.

"Let me see."

She jerked. A woman in a white shirt and black pants was kneeling beside her. She smiled. "Your nose, honey."

"Oh," Lisa said, and took her hand away. "It isn't broken."

As the woman examined her, Lisa tried to remember how she had gotten here. She remembered Lola and Lana arguing, remembered telling them that if they didn't stop, their father would wreck the van...and that was it. Everything else was blank. Did they wreck? It looked like they wrecked. She laughed.

"I told them," Lisa said, "I told them we were going to wreck."

She shivered and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm cold. Is it cold?" She rubbed her arms. Her teeth chattered.

The paramedic's expression turned worried. She glanced over her shoulder and called a firefighter over. "I need a blanket," she said, "I think she's in shock."

The firefighter nodded and returned a few moments later with a gray wool blanket. "Here, honey," the paramedic said, draping the blanket over Lisa's shoulders.

"Thank you," Lisa chattered.

"Can you come with me?"

"Sure."

The paramedic helped Lisa up and led her through the chaos. People ran back and forth. A woman sat against the tire of a minivan as a paramedic checked her head. Mass casualty incident. That's what they called it. She read that in a medical text. MCI. They were obviously doing triage on the scene.

"Over here, honey," the medic said. Lisa looked up and froze. Ahead, the double doors of an ambulance stood open. The inside was dark, cavernous, like a yawning mouth. The medic sensed her distress and looked down at her. "Are you okay?"

Lisa was shaking, her heart jackrabbiting in her chest. She shook her head. "I-I-I'm not going in there."

"Honey, it's okay, it's..."

Lisa pulled away from her. _"I'm not going in there!"_ She broke down and cried then. _"Please don't make me go in there..."_

* * *

"Damn it," Jeff Parker hissed. He looked away from the dead child lying limply on the floorboard and took a deep breath. Parker had been a firefighter with the Royal Woods Fire Department for six years, and in that time he had seen more dead children than he cared to remember, and it never got any easier. Hell, he had two little girls himself, and whenever he had to deal with a dead child, he imagined one of them lying there, and it made him sick. He'd almost quit a dozen times over it.

"Her neck broke," Bill Shires said dully. Bill, a hefty man with white hair, had been with the department since 1981. He'd seen more dead kids than Parker, and you know what? It never _did_ get easier, even after almost forty years.

The little girl was maybe six or seven with blonde hair. She was wearing a pink dress and a tiara. Her neck was twisted and crushed. Her eyes were open, staring sightlessly into the heavens. Parker already knew those eyes would haunt his sleep tonight, and probably every night after.

"I can't," he said, and left.

Shires took a deep breath and called it in.


	3. You Can't Always Get What You Want

Rita Loud flew into the lobby of Royal Woods General in a state of near hysteria, nearly colliding with a man in scrubs.

The cab ride from the airport took less than ten minutes, but it felt longer, much longer, as though she were in a nightmare and trying to flee some hideous beast but lurching instead of running. She dialed Lynn Sr.'s number, and got no answer. She dialed Lori and Luna and Lincoln and Luan, her panic mounting with every missed call. She called Leni, the only child she knew was alive; it was Leni who called her in the first place, her voice trembling: _There was an accident. Everybody's hurt._

Those words pierced Rita's spirit like a knife. As the cab threaded its way through traffic, visions of her children dead and dying danced through her head, and she broke down crying.

"You alright, lady?" the cabbie asked, glancing in the rearview. Stupid question, he thought; she was going to the hospital after all, and no one goes to the hospital when they're alright.

When they reached the hospital, the cabbie said, "Go on. It's on the house."

"Thank you," Rita said.

"Good luck."

In the lobby, she rushed to the reception desk. A woman sat behind a computer, her face bathed in blue electric glow. She looked up as Rita approached.

"My kids..." Rita said, "there was an accident."

"Names?"

"Lori Loud, Leni Loud, Luna Loud, Luan Loud, Lincoln Loud, Lucy Loud, Lola Loud, Lana Loud, Lisa Loud. And my husband Lynn."

The woman's eyes widened as Rita listed all the names. She typed something into the computer. "We have a Leni Loud, a Luna Loud, and a Lincoln Loud in the emergency department."

"What about the others?" Rita asked.

"We may not have been able to get their names."

Rita's knees went weak, and she grabbed onto the desk for support. "Does that mean they're dead?"

"No, no," the woman said, putting her hands up. "Just sometimes, in the heat of the moment, that slips. They could also just not be entered in the system yet. Go to the emergency room and you should be able to speak with someone."

Rita nodded and started toward the emergency room. As she walked, she tried to mentally prepare herself for what might come. She imagined someone sitting her down and explaining that her children were dead, and fresh tears sprang to her eyes.

The emergency department waiting room was crowded with people. Doctors, nurses, and orderlies rushed around. At the desk, she told a woman in floral scrubs that her children were here and that there had been an accident. She stammered their names. "Please, can I see them? I have to see my babies." Here she started crying again.

"Just one minute," the woman said. She got up and disappeared down the hall. Rita watched as someone came in on a stretcher. Was it one of her kids? No, it was a black man with a bloody bandage on his face.

"Mrs. Loud?" a voice called, and she whipped around. The nurse in the floral scrubs was standing by a door.

Clutching her purse, Rita hurried over. "In here," the nurse said.

Rita walked into the room and jerked. Leni was sitting on an examine table, a nurse cleaning an ugly gash on her head. Leni looked up and saw her. "Mom!"

"Oh, baby," Rita said, going to her daughter and taking her in her arms. More tears fell. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," Leni said, "I just got a cut."

Rita hugged her daughter tight. To the nurse, she said, "I need to see someone about my other kids."

"I'll get someone right with you," the nurse said, and left the room.

"What happened?" Rita asked.

"W-We hit someone," Leni said, "then we flipped over and someone hit us."

Rita's heart dropped into her stomach. "Oh, my God..."

"I was so scared," Leni said, and started to cry. Rita squeezed her tighter and fought back her own tears. She had to be strong for her children.

"Shhhh," she said, "it's okay, baby, it's all over now."

But it wasn't. And Rita suspected that it never would be again.

"Mrs. Loud?"

Rita looked up. A man in a lab coat stood in the doorway. He was tall and thin with a receding hairline and glasses. "I'm Dr. Carson."

"Rita," Rita said, putting her arm around her daughter's shoulder.

"Rita," Carson nodded, "I wish I could tell you more, but there were a lot of injuries in that accident and we're swamped. I can say that your daughter Luna is awake. She just had a CT scan and we're waiting on the results. It appears she has a concussion. Lincoln is currently in surgery..."

"Surgery?" Rita gasped.

"For his leg," Carson said, "it was pinned in the wreckage. He was awake and lucid when he came in. He gave us the names and descriptions of everyone in the vehicle."

Rita rubbed her eyes.

"Lisa is a couple rooms down," Carson said. "She's fine, but in shock. She had a bad reaction to the ambulance and had to be sedated before being brought in."

"Bad reaction?"

"She didn't want to get in."

"How is she?"

"She's asleep. She's lucky. She only had a bloody nose."

Rita held back a sob.

"There were other children, but beyond that, I don't know. As I said, we're very busy."

"Where is Luna? I want to see Luna."

"I can arrange for that," Carson said, "just give me fifteen minutes."

Rita nodded. "Okay."

After Carson left, she hugged Leni again, and Leni leaned her head into her chest like a little girl, which made Rita want to cry even more. A nurse came in. "Ma'am, I need to finish with Leni."

Rita nodded. "Of course." She hugged Leni once more and let go of her only with great reluctance. Hugging herself, she stood aside as the nurse applied a bandage to Leni's forehead. "You're lucky you don't need stitches," the nurse said, "those are not fun."

"They don't sound like fun," Leni muttered.

Rita waited as patiently as she could for Carson to come back, but after five minutes, she couldn't stand still.

"I'm going to go look for Luna," Rita said.

"Okay," Leni said. Her breathless tone gave Rita pause.

"I'll come right back, okay, baby?"

"She's in good hands, Mrs. Loud," the nurse said.

Rita wiped a tear from her eye and went into the hall. An Hispanic woman in a lab coat rushed by, followed by a stretcher surrounded by doctors and nurses. Rita caught a glimpse of the woman on it: Her face was smashed and caked with blood. Rita was sure she saw shattered teeth and bits of skull sticking through. Her stomach clenched, and she fought back a tide of vomit.

The thought that something like that may have happened to one of her own didn't cross her mind. She wouldn't let it.

* * *

Luna's mind was clear. The ringing in her ears had died down, and the worst of the nausea had passed. Her head ached (the lights and sounds made it worse) but she could deal with that. What she couldn't deal with was not knowing where her siblings were. She asked several people to find out for her, but they never came back.

Presently, she was lying on a gurney along a wall. Doctors and nurses rushed past. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The pain in her head was hot, throbbing. The X-ray tech put a rush on her results, but she couldn't get them fast enough. Her brain could be bleeding. Or swelling. Or whatever else brains did when you whipped them around.

"Luna, honey," a voice said. She opened her eyes. Dr. Carson was standing over her. "How are you feeling?"

"My head hurts," she said.

"We're still waiting on your results, but your mother's here."

Luna tried to sit up, but a wave of nausea pushed her back down. "Take it easy. She's with your sister right now but she asked to see you."

"Which sister?"

"Leni."

"Is she okay?"

"Yes, she just has a cut on her head."

"What about everyone else?"

"Everyone else is fine, just focus on you. I expect your results back any time. When I have them, I'll bring them right here. Okay?"

Luna nodded, and he went away.

For a long time, she lay on the gurney trying to remember what happened. She vaguely recalled the world spinning and hitting her head, but the harder she tried to examine the memory, the farther it receded.

"Luna!"

Luna snapped open her eyes. Her mother was standing over her, her wan face screwed up in an expression of misery.

"Hey, mom," Luna said, forcing a smile.

"Baby," Rita whispered, stroking her daughter's hair. Tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I'm fine," Luna said, "really. Just a headache. How's everyone else?"

"I'm not sure yet," Rita said, "but I'm sure they're okay."

"Leni?"

"Leni's okay."

Rita took her daughter's hand and squeezed. "I love you."

"I love you too, mom."

Rita bent over and kissed her. "I have to go see Lisa."

"Yeah, go see everyone else and find out if they're okay," Luna said. "I'm good. Just a headache."

Rita stroked her daughter's forehead one final time, loathe to leave her, then started in the direction of Lisa's room. She found her second youngest daughter curled up on a gurney. A curtain partitioned the room. On the other side, someone launched into a coughing fit. The sight of Lisa, so small, so frail, surrounded by bed, brought a lump to Rita's throat. She went over and touched her forehead. She stirred, her eyes opening.

"Hi, baby," Rita said. "How are you feeling?"

"Been better," Lisa muttered.

"We all have," Rita choked back more tears.

"I didn't expect the sedative to take effect so quickly," Lisa said. "They administered the shot and that's all she wrote." She closed her eyes and drifted off again.

Rita sat with her for a long time. In her pocket, her phone buzzed, and she whipped it out. It was Lynn Jr.

Rita's hand flew to her forehead. In the chaos and confusion she totally forgot about Lynn and Lilly at home. She answered.

"Hey, mom, you guys gonna be home soon?" Lynn asked.

"No," Rita said. "We're at the hospital."

"Hospital? What happened?"

"An accident."

"Is everyone okay?" Lynn asked, worry creeping into her voice.

"I don't know," Rita said, and gave into her tears. "I just don't know."

* * *

" _Mrs. Loud?"_

" _Yes?"_

 _It was a doctor she had never seen before. He was a small black man with a mustache and glasses. He held a clipboard in his hands. "I'm Doctor Crawford. Your husband is Lynn Loud?"_

" _Yes."_

 _Dr. Crawford took a deep breath. "Lynn came in with severe trauma to the head and face. We had our entire team working with him. He put a breathing tube in and attempted to resuscitate him, but our efforts failed. I'm sorry, he's dead."_

 _Rita thought she would cry and scream, but a cold numbness settled over her. She folded her arms over her chest._

 _"What about my children."_

 _Crawford looked at his clipboard. "Lincoln is out of surgery. We did everything we could for his leg, but at this point, we're not sure he'll regain full use of it. Luna has a mild concussion. The CT scan showed no major swelling in the brain, and no bleeding. Leni and Lisa both have very mild cuts and scratches. Lucy also has a concussion. Lana's nose was broken."_

 _Rita's thoughts drifted. "What about Luan?"_

 _Dr. Crawford sighed. "Luan suffered extensive injuries to the head and neck. She is unconscious and right now we don't know."_

 _Rita shuddered._

 _"What about Lori and Lola?"_

 _Fifteen minutes later, Rita was standing in the hospital morgue, a dead daughter on either side of her._

 _"That's them," she whispered, and wept._

Is that how it happened? Rita would never remember, but that's how it played out in dreams for the rest of her life.


	4. Stay With Me

Sundown found Luna in a private room on the third floor; out the window, she had a scenic view of the staff parking lot. She was groggy, and dozed some.

"Your results are good," Dr. Carson had said. "No swelling, no bleeding. Just a slight concussion. I'm admitting you overnight for observation. Tomorrow you _should_ be ready to go home."

Home sounded nice. She was already sick of bright white lights, tile walls, and the pervading smell of disinfectant.

At six, just after a nurse wheeled her into her room in a wheelchair (even though she could walk, and wanted to), an orderly brought her a tray of food and sat it on a rolling table. The smell of it turned her stomach, but she drank the juice, and it was good, but now her lips were dry again, and her throat tacky.

Now, with the sky a soft purple, she waited anxiously for word on her family. She asked Dr. Carson, and he promised to come around before his shift ended. She laid back against the overstuffed pillow and closed her eyes. The pain in her head had gone from a drilling agony to a dull throb, and the ringing in her ears was gone, but she felt exhausted, as though she hadn't slept in days. Each time she began to drop off, though, images and sounds crept in, images and sounds that she couldn't quite identify, but scared her nonetheless.

A nurse came in, and Luna sat up. "Hi, honey, my name's Miranda and I'll be taking care of you tonight," she said, crossing the room to a white board on which the previous nurse had written her name, and the names of other pertinent staff members. It must be shift change. She hoped Dr. Carson came soon. "Is there anything I can get for you?"

"I'm thirsty," Luna said.

"We have juice, soda, milk, tea..."

"A Pepsi would be nice."

"Alright," Miranda said, "I'll go grab you one."

Thanks.

While she waited, she picked up the remote control from the bedside table and turned the wall-mounted TV on. An old episode of _Everybody Loves Raymond_ was on; Ray stood in his kitchen and mugged for the camera, and how the audience _laughed_. She changed the channel, and landed on Fox 5: The news was on, images of smashed vehicles flickering across the screen. Luna's breath caught in her throat.

"Nine people are dead and fifteen are injured after a ten car pileup on I-466 near Royal Woods today," the anchor said, and Luna's stomach knotted. "Among the dead is former state assemblyman John Harris..."

On screen, firefighters and paramedics scrambled to pry open a white van with ROYAL WOODS METHODIST CHURCH across the side in red. The scene changed, and Luna saw vanzilla, its roof caved in and its flank covered by a white canvas sheet. Her blood turned to ice water. She didn't know much about paramedics and stuff, but she knew they only put those up when someone was...

"Here you go!"

Luna jumped. Miranda, the nurse, was standing beside her with a tiny can of Pepsi. "Thank you," Luna said, taking it and blinking back tears. She tried to pop the tab, but suddenly all of her strength had deserted her.

"I'll get it." Miranda opened the can and sat it down on the table. "Do you want a straw?"

Luna shook her head; she didn't trust herself to speak.

When Miranda was gone, Luna turned the TV off and laid back against her pillow, panic starting to rise in her chest. Where was that bastard Carson? She...

"Luna?"

She turned. Her mother was standing in the doorway. Her face was ashen and her eyes puffy like she'd been crying. In that moment, Luna knew she had bad news, and tears overwhelmed her.

"Baby," mom said, sitting and hugging her close. "Baby..."

Luna cried harder. "W-Who?" she asked.

"Luna..."

 _"Who died?"_

For a long time, Rita did not speak. Like Luna moments ago, she didn't trust herself, for if she spoke their names, she was certain she would start to sob and never stop. She kissed her daughter's forehead and cradled her.

"Your father..."

Luna's heart throbbed.

"Lori..."

She cried out.

"And Lola."

The world rolled away, and Luna was alone in the storm, clinging desperately to her mother and sobbing into her breast. She tried to ask about everyone else, but all that came out was a strangled sound of misery.

"I'm sorry," Rita said through her own tears, "I'm so sorry, baby."

Luna took a deep breath and forced the tears to stop. "What about...everyone else?"

"Luan's in the ICU," Rita said, her voice breaking, "she's not doing well."

Luna closed her eyes.

"Everyone else is okay," she said. "Your brother hurt his leg but he's going to be okay. Lisa was in shock but she's better now."

Her mother went through the list of injuries: Leni's gashed head, Lana's broken nose, Lucy's concussion. "Where are they?" Luna asked.

"Lincoln's a few doors down. He'll be here a few days. Lucy's on the fourth floor. Lana's on the second floor, and Lisa and Leni are in the waiting room. I wanted to make sure you were up to seeing...

"Yes," Luna said. "I want to see them."

Rita kissed her daughter on the forehead and got up. Luna watched her go, and was surprised to feel a rise of anxiety. A minute later, Leni and Lisa came into the room. Both of them had changed greatly in the hours since she'd seen them. They looked older, harder. Leni's face was sunken and wan. Lisa stared blankly ahead, only forcing herself to focus on Luna with effort.

"Hey," Leni said. Her voice was tired and husky.

Seeing them like that made Luna break down, and she covered her eyes. Leni came to her and put her arm around her. She was crying too. Lisa stood where she was, looking unsure. Finally she came over, climbed onto the bed, and sat on Luna's other side, putting her arm on her shoulder and squeezing.

None of them spoke. In that moment there was nothing any of them could say, no words of wisdom or encouragement or healing. Three of them were dead and the rest were wounded. Luna realized that they would never be the same, and she wept more bitterly. She thought of all the times she sat on her father's lap when she was little, all the times she'd gone to Lori with problems she couldn't (or wouldn't) take to their parents, of all the times she tucked Lola in and read to her. She let out a pained wail, and for a long time, her heart ached so badly that she thought she was dying.

When she had herself under control, she wiped her eyes. "A-Are you guys okay?"

"Yeah," Leni said, and touched the bandage on her forehead. "It's just a scratch."

"Lisa?"

"Better," Lisa said. Her voice sounded hollow. "I'm still coming to terms with it."

"Have you seen anyone else?"

"We saw Lucy," Leni said.

"And Lincoln."

"How are they?"

"Lucy's head hurts and Lincoln's leg is all messed up," Leni said. "It's, like, in a cast."

"It was broken in four places," Lisa said. "He lost a lot of cartilage and suffered likely nerve damage. It's doubtful if he'll ever be able to use it again."

Luna sighed. "Lana?"

"She's okay," Leni said, "except her nose got broken."

"She also has bruising around her eyes," Lisa added.

"How is she taking...it?" Luna asked.

"Not well," Lisa said, "she's broken up."

Mom came into the room then, and they all looked up. "We have to go," she said, "visiting hours are over."

Panic gripped Luna. "You guys can't go," she said.

"We have to, baby. I still have to tell Lynn." Her voice broke on the last couple words. She was not looking forward to telling yet another one of her children that their father and two of their siblings was dead.

Luna shook her head, her heart starting to race. The thought of being alone, with her precious few remaining family members scattered to the wind, terrified her. She opened her mouth to speak, but tears filled her eyes instead. "Don't leave me," she said.

"Honey," mom said miserably. She came over and sat down, ran her hand through Luna's hair. "I'll be back tomorrow, then you can come home."

Luna let out a shuddery breath. "I don't want to be alone."

Mom stroked her cheek. "Baby...Lincoln's just down the hall. I'm sure they won't mind you visiting him."

Luna looked up at her mother. "Y-Yeah," she said, "I wanna see him."

* * *

Lincoln Loud lie in a hard hospital bed, an IV tube in his arm and a catheter in his privates. He wasn't awake when they inserted it; he fought them so hard on the matter that they finally agreed to give him a sedative. That was...when? An hour ago? Two? He didn't know. He didn't even know what time it was now, only that the window on his right was dark. He raised his hand to his head. What was the name of the painkiller he was on? He didn't like it. It made him feel loopy and strange in his stomach. He closed his eyes and tried to drift off, but his mind turned back to his what his mother had told him.

Dad, Lola, and Lori were dead.

No euphemisms, no beating around the bush, just plain and simply _dead_. He tried to process it, but his drug-addled brain couldn't (or wouldn't). He opened his eyes and stared up at the harsh florescent light, trying to summon grief but failing, and hating himself for it.

"H-Hey, bro."

Lincoln turned his head and blinked his eyes. Luna was standing inside the door. She was wearing a hospital gown and looked haggard, as if she hadn't slept in days. Even so, she was the most beautiful thing he'd seen all day: She was his sister and she was alive.

"Hey," he said. "How you feel?"

"Like shit," she said. "How's your leg?"

"What leg?" he asked, then forced a chuckle. "Seriously, I'm on drugs, I can't even feel it."

"What happened to it?" she asked, coming to his bed and sitting carefully on the edge.

"It got stuck under the seat. Broken. Messed up." Forming words was hard. "You?"

"Concussion."

Lincoln tried to remember if he knew exactly what a concussion was. He knew it had to do with the brain and head, but...beyond that, everything was foggy. "What's it like?"

Luna shrugged. "My head hurts. I was sick. Ringing in my ears. Really tired."

"They had to cut me out," Lincoln mused. "They used the jaws of life."

"What was _that_ like?" Luna asked disinterestedly.

Lincoln shrugged. "Lot of noise. And sparks. I think."

He tried to envision the scene, but it was hazy. He vaguely recalled being strapped to a hard plastic board and carried out, but that was pretty much it. Oh, and being in the ambulance. "How did you get out?"

"I don't know," Luna said. "I woke up on the ground. Leni was with me. I saw –" she stopped, trying but failing to close out the memory of Lori lying backwards out the window, a bloody, ragged stump where her arm had been. She let out a strangled cry and covered her face.

"Hey," Lincoln said, "Luna..."

She collapsed and rested her head on his chest, her body wracked with the force of her sobs. He swallowed and haltingly put his hand on her head. "Luna..." he started, but didn't know what to say. He wanted to comfort her; the sound of her in such pain broke his heart, and for the first time since waking up in recovery, tears filled his own eyes.

"I can't believe they're gone," Luna said through her tears, and cried harder.

"Neither can I," Lincoln said honestly. He looked down at his sister, feeling helpless. "It's like a bad dream."

She sniffed wetly and blinked back her grief. She looked at him, her eyes miserable. "C-Can I stay with you for a while? I don't want to be alone."

"Of course," Lincoln said. He nodded to the spot beside him. "Get up here."

She nestled next to him, and he put his arm around her shoulders. Her breathing was erratic. She slipped an arm between him and the bed and held him tightly, as if trying to keep him from leaving too. Neither of them spoke. Her warmth and her closeness soothed him, and he felt himself starting to drift off, but forced himself back.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye," Luna muttered, and Lincoln rubbed her arm. "I thought I'd get to say goodbye when...when it was time, you know?"

"I know," Lincoln said. "So did I."

Sometime later, he heard Luna's breathing change. It became more shallow. He looked down. She was asleep. He held her tighter. Five minutes later, he was asleep too.

* * *

In the night, she came awake with a start, panic gripping her heart and the sound of squealing tires and crunching metal ringing in her ears. She didn't know where she was, and terror started to bubble up in her chest. She trembled.

"Shhh," Lincoln said, rubbing the back of her hair, "I'm here...it's okay."

Her thundering heart calmed, and she remembered; she was with her little bro. She took a deep breath and buried her face in his chest. She felt safe, and warm...


	5. Scar Tissue

She didn't like to cry, because crying was an admission of pain and weakness, and you never admitted pain and you weakness; you bared your teeth, got back up, and kept playing. When her mother sat her on the couch, however, she _knew_ what was coming, and was sobbing even before the words came. Her mother reached for her, but she pulled away and got up, her hand pressed to her face.

"Honey," mom said, but she walked away; she needed to be alone, and she didn't want her mother, or Lisa, or Leni to see her like this. In her room, she slammed the door and threw herself on her bed. Alone, she wept so deeply that her chest hurt. The grief suddenly gave way to rage, and, screaming into her pillow, she battered the bed with her fists. When that wasn't enough, she got to her knees, grabbed her pillow, and flung it at the window; blinds crinkled and broke. She punched the wall, her fist sinking into the plaster; when she pulled it out, her knuckles were raw and bleeding, but the pain felt good...better than the pain in her heart, the pain that now overwhelmed her. She sat on the bed and gave voice to it.

In the living room, Rita stared blankly at the fireplace; she felt empty, dead. Upstairs, something thumped, and she was vaguely sure than Lynn was tearing her room apart, but she didn't care. What did it matter? What did it matter if she tore the whole fucking house down? You can replace a house, but you can't replace a girl's father or sisters.

"Should we talk to her?" Leni asked quietly. Her arms were crossed over her chest as though she were cold.

"No," Lisa said, "let her work through it on her own." Lisa glanced at her mother, who sat with her hands on her lap and wore a dazed expression. She reached out and touched her hand; Rita jumped.

"I-I guess I better make dinner," she said, raising her hand to the side of her face.

"I'm not hungry," Leni said.

"Nor am I," Lisa added.

"Okay."

None of them moved or spoke for a long time after that. Later, in her room, Lisa lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling and trying not to remember the terror that gripped her that evening when the taxi pulled up in front of the hospital. Prior to that, she felt...fine, all things considered. She knew a taxi was coming (how else would they get home?), but when it came to a stop at the curb, her heart seized and her body went rigid. Her mother didn't notice her condition (which Lisa had no choice but to forgive, as she had just lost a husband and two children), but Leni did. "Are you okay?" she asked.

Lisa tried to speak, but her vocal cords were locked. She flashed back to the van that afternoon, to the terrible impact as it rolled, to her face striking the back of the seat ahead of her.

"Lisa?"

The vision faded, and she was back in front of the hospital, a slick, metal death machine waiting for her to climb into its guts.

"I-I can't," Lisa stammered.

"Honey, what's wrong?" mom asked.

"I-I-I can't get in that thing."

"Honey, you have to."

Tears filled her eyes, and she blinked them back.

"It's okay, Lisa," Leni said, putting her hands on her shoulders. "I'll be with you."

Mom opened the door, and Leni pushed Lisa forward. Taking a deep breath, she climbed into the back of the cab and sat stiffly by the door, her heart pounding and her mind racing. She looked left, right, up, down. The driver's seat was too far back; if they hit something and she went forward, she'd hit it. If someone T-boned them, the door would cave in and wrap her in jagged metal.

"Can I sit in the middle?" she asked, her voice unsteady.

"Sure," Leni said, and switched her spots. With trembling hands, Lisa found the seat-belt and buckled it.

When the car pulled away from the curb, she jolted and shot out her hands. Leni grabbed one and squeezed. Her mother grabbed the other.

"It's okay, sweetie," mom said. "We're just going home."

Lisa swallowed hard and squeezed her eyes closed. They were going too fast. They were going to crash.

Presently, she took a deep breath and turned to look at the clock on the nightstand. 3:15am. She'd been here trying to sleep since just after midnight. At first the crying kept her awake. Lynn's, then her mother's. The walls were thin. That tapered off around 2, and a dark, unnatural silence held sway over the Loud house, a silence that bespoke not quiet but _desolation_ , emptiness: Even with Lilly in her crib, breathing, Lisa felt terribly alone. Sighing, she slipped out of bed, grabbed her pillow and blanket, and went into her mother's room. The bedside lamp was one. Mom was curled up in a ball, her arm thrown over Leni, who faced the wall. When Lisa opened the door, they both looked up.

"Room for one more?" Lisa asked.

"Of course," mom said thickly. "Come here."

Lisa climbed onto the bed and snuggled between her mother and sister.

"You can't sleep either?"

Lisa shook her head.

"I keep thinking of Lori," Leni said, and shivered. "I saw her. She was..." Leni trailed off, hitching with silent tears.

"Don't think about it," mom said, rubbing her arm. "She wouldn't want you to think about it."

* * *

Morning crept across the backyard, chasing shadows into cracks, crevices, and other hiding places. Bobby Santiago watched the cresting dawn with a deep sadness. Absently, he picked up his cell phone and checked for a text from Lori, but, like the twenty thousand other time he'd checked, there was nothing.

He and Lori were fighting again, something that was happening more frequently these days. It was his fault, really. Lori could be pushy sometimes, and that irritated him. Growing up with a single mother, Bobby had grown independent at an early age. He wasn't used to the type micromanaging that Lori lived and breathed everyday. Sure, she was the oldest, but her sisters (and her brother) often involved themselves in her business (like the time they all thought he was cheating on her with women, men, animals, and probably his own fucking underwear). It was sweet, in a way; they all cared about her. That was fine, but he just wasn't accustomed to that.

He should have kept his mouth shut, but, dumbass that he was, he just had to argue. _I don't want to a bright red tux to the summer ball._ Did it really matter _what_ he wore as long as he had her? Did it _really_?

Sighing, he checked his phone again. Still nothing. Man, she was pissed. He texted her twice and got no response, not even one of those angry emojis with the red forehead. That wasn't like her.

"Im sorry" he texted. It joined the others on the screen. Above those, her last text said, "Do whatever u want." He read it again and again, feeling worse each time. He glanced at the time. It was 6:30. He'd give it an hour, then he'd walk over and try to talk to her.

While he waited, he showered, changed into a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt, then went into the kitchen, being quiet because it was his mother's day off and she liked to sleep in. He grabbed an apple from a basket by the fridge and ate it while he stared out the window over the sink: Scarlet morning sun lie across the grass. In happier times, he and Lori had spent a lot of time in the backyard; sometimes they'd lie arm-in-arm and stare up at the stars, neither speaking because they were content simply to be together.

What was he doing? The thought of losing her scared the shit out of him; he threw the apple into the trash and left that very minute, shoving his hands into his pockets and walking as quickly as he could.

It took fifteen minutes to reach the Loud house; its façade was bathed in feeble sunshine. He slackened his pace when he saw the van wasn't in the driveway. Were they even here? And if not, where were they? Out to breakfast or something? They were always up early (Lori before six, every single day), so it was possible. He walked across the front lawn, climbed the stairs, and paused at the door, taking a deep breath. He was prepared for eye rolls, sighs, and "I can't evens."

Hoping those were all he would have to contend with, he knocked on the door and waited. No one came, and he knocked again.

Faintly, he heard the sound of someone coming down the stairs. A moment later, the door opened, and Lynn was standing there, her eyes red and her hair messed. She looked like a drunk fresh off a three day bender.

"Hey," he said, "is Lori here?"

Something flashed in Lynn's eyes, then she looked away. "No," she said barely above a whisper.

"When will she be back? I really need to talk to her."

For a moment, Lynn gripped the door and stared at the ground. Then she started to shake. She snapped her head up, and the rage in her face made Bobby shrink back. "She's dead. Now fuck off."

She slammed the door so hard it sounded like a gunshot. For a moment Bobby stood there, trying to process what she said. Did she say dead? His heart skipped a beat. No, she didn't say that. She couldn't have.

Bobby was halfway home before he realized he'd left.

 _She's so mad that she sent her sister to tell me she's dead_. He laughed at the absurdity of it. That's what it was, right? Pretty fucked up. Funny, but fucked up.

When he reached his own front porch, Bobby sat down on the bottom step and pulled out his cellphone. He dialed Mrs. Loud's number and waited. She answered on the fourth ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, it's Bobby," he said, the words coming as if from someone else. "I just came by and Lynn..." sudden tears flooded his eyes, and his lips quivered. When he spoke next, his voice cracked. "...Lynn said Lori's dead."

For a moment Mrs. Loud didn't say anything. The dreadful silence was all the answer Bobby needed. She said something about an accident, but he didn't hear. He drew his knees to his chest, wrapped his arms around them, and buried his face to weep.

* * *

Lincoln Loud woke panting and sweating just before dawn, the last vestiges of the nightmare lingering in his mind. He turned, and Luna was there, her eyes open and worried. She stroked the side of his face. "You okay, bro?"

He nodded and tried to catch his breath. "Just a bad dream," he said, and put his hand on his sister's.

"You wanna tell me about it?"

No, he didn't, but he found himself telling her anyway. "I was back in the van...and everyone was dead." He broke down, and Luna hugged him close. His heart pounded against her.

He sniffled and willed himself to stop. "I was alone."

Luna's heart broke at the abject misery in his face. "I'm here," she said and kissed his forehead. "Wild horses couldn't drag me away."

That calmed him, and as she stroked his head, he fell back asleep. She watched him, and such desperate love and affection filled her that she drew him even closer. _I'm not going anywhere,_ she thought, _and I'm not letting you go anywhere either._

At some point she lapsed into a thin and fitful sleep, coming awake when the door opened and someone came into the room. She turned to see Dr. Carson.

"Luna," he said, "I thought I'd find you here."

"Yeah," she said, slipping her arm out from underneath Lincoln and sitting up, "I'm sorry, I..."

Carson waved a hand. "Don't be. That's what families do: Help each other through tough times. How do you feel?"

Luna took mental stock of her body. Her arm and back were sore, her neck was stiff, and her head still kind of ached. She told Carson, who checked her neck, his fingers nimble and cold. He then shined a light in her eyes, checked her reflexes, and asked her a series of questions.

"Well," he finally said, "you seem to be in good shape to me. I'll go ahead and have the front desk draw up your discharge papers."

"Great," she said and flashed a fake smile. Carson nodded, wished her well, and left. When she turned to Lincoln, he was watching her.

"You're leaving?" he asked, his voice small and frightened.

"No," she said, and meant it. "I'm not going anywhere." She took his hand and smiled at him. Something occurred to her. "Except to see Lucy and Lana. And Luan. If they'll let me."

"Yeah," Lincoln said, "do that. I wish I could come."

"Maybe they'll let me put you in a wheelchair," she offered.

A few minutes later, Dr. Carson returned. "Ah, Lincoln, just the man I wanted to see. How's the leg?"

"It's starting to hurt," Lincoln admitted.

"It _is_ about time for your medication. Let me have a look."

While Carson removed the brace and bandages from Lincoln's leg, Luna said, "I want to see my sisters, and I was wondering if I could bring Lincoln."

"I don't know about that," Carson said, "I'd really rather he do as little moving as possible for the time being. However, I believe Dr. Crawford is discharging both of them today, so they can come here."

"How is Luan?"

"I don't know," Carson replied. "The last I heard, she was still in the ICU, unconscious."

Luna's stomach sank. She crossed her arms, suddenly cold.

When he was done, Carson stood. "Looking good."

"When can _I_ go home?" Lincoln asked.

Carson sighed. "Well, I'd say five days or a week, and that's being generous. You suffered a lot of nerve damage, Lincoln, and I don't want to scare you, but that's pretty major. I can't just put you in a cast and send you on your way. I know you don't want to be here, but it's really for the best."

"I understand," Lincoln sighed. Luna rubbed the back of his head.

"I'll check with Luan's doctor and see how she is," Carson said. With a nod, he left.

Luna put her arm around her brother. "Look on the bright side...at least you won't have to take out the trash for a while."

For some reason, that struck Lincoln as funny. He chuckled, then laughed. Luna laughed with him. Then he started to cry, and she pressed his head against her chest.

* * *

"Sure," Harold McBride said into the phone, "what time?"

He listened, nodded, said, "Alright, I'll be over," and hung up. In the living room, Howard was dozing while _The Price is Right_ played on the television. Clyde was sitting in an armchair with a comic book. Harold's heart went out to the boy. He'd been through so much in his short life, now this.

"Clyde?"

"Yeah, dad?" he asked, looking up.

"Can you go into your room for a moment? I need to speak with your father."

"Okay," Clyde said and got up. When he was gone, Harold sat next to Howard, who had come awake at the mention of a private conversation.

"Is everything okay?"

Harold sighed. "That was Rita Loud on the phone. She asked me if I could give her a ride to the hospital."

"The hospital?" Howard asked, his hand flying to his chest. "What happened?"

"There was an accident," Harold said. "Lincoln and some of his sisters are hurt."

Howard's eyes widened. "Oh, my God. Is it bad?"

"I don't know," Harold sighed. "She didn't say and I didn't press her. I'd like Clyde not to know until we know how bad it is. He'll want to come, and I don't want him to see Lincoln if he's too bad off."

Howard put his hand on Harold's shoulder and squeezed. "I understand. I just hope everyone's okay."

An hour later, Harold pulled up to the curb in front of the Loud house. Rita was standing on the porch, and when she saw him, she came down the stairs and crossed the front lawn. Harold watched her as she came, studying her face and her body language. Her cheeks were sallow and sunken, and dark bags hung under her eyes. She looked like she hadn't slept a wink, which was understandable; having a child (in her case _children_ ) in the hospital tended to do that. When Clyde was younger he spent a couple days in the pediatric center after an asthma attack, and neither he nor Howard slept more than five minutes until he was safe home.

Rita opened the passenger door and slid in. "Hi," Harold said.

"Hi," Rita said, "thank you."

"Don't mention it," he said, pulling away from the curb and doing a quick U-turn. He searched for something, anything to say, to break the heavy silence, but found nothing. Rita gazed out the window, her head rocking and lolling with the rhythm of the car.

"How is everyone?" Harold finally asked.

"Not good," Rita sighed. She told him the story from start to finish; by the time she was done, he was gripping the wheel tight and staring straight ahead, struggling against tears of sympathy. The poor woman! Her husband _and_ two of her daughters. Harold couldn't even begin to imagine the pain she was feeling. If he lost Howard and Clyde, he'd break into a million little pieces.

"I'm sorry," he said. "I know that's not much, but I am. I don't think I could hold up half as well as you." He started to add _and you have your other children to think of_ , but that might sound callous or ignorant, so he closed his mouth.

"I'm not holding up very well at all," Rita said. "I've been in a daze since it happened. Everywhere I look, I see reminders of them, and..." she turned her head out the window; to hid her tears, Harold suspected.

They reached the hospital, and Harold pulled into a slot facing the front of the building. He killed the engine and put his hand on Rita's shoulder. "I know you must be going through hell, and please don't take this the wrong way, but you have your other kids, and they need you now more than ever. It might all seem hopeless and without meaning, but _they're_ your meaning, Rita."

She nodded and wiped her eyes. "I know. I'm trying so hard but I..." She took a deep breath. "I feel like I died with them."

* * *

Ronnie Anne Santiago found her brother sitting on the front porch, his arms wrapped around his knees; he stared off into space. She knew something was wrong.

"Hey," she said, sitting next to him and putting her hand on his back, "is everything okay?"

For a moment, he didn't speak. "No," he finally said.

"What's wrong?"

"Lori," he said, "...she's dead."

Ronnie Anne blinked. "What?"

"There was an accident. She died. Everyone else is in the hospital."

Ronnie Anne took her hand away and sat it in her lap. She, too, stared into space.


	6. All You Need is Love

Her first stop was the ICU. From the moment she entered the building, her stomach rolled and a band of anxiety gripped her chest. Stepping off the elevator, dread came over her, and for a moment she couldn't move. Harold put his arm around her and asked if she was okay. No. She wasn't. She was terrified, terrified of what she would find, terrified of what the doctor would say.

At the nurses' station, she said, "I'm here to see my daughter. Luan Loud."

Luan was in a dark room at the end of the hall. It was like a cave, Rita thought, and shuddered. Or a coffin. She was hooked up to a dozen different machines. A breathing tube was affixed to her mouth. A monitor tracked her heartbeat, booping and beeping. Her eyes were closed and her mouth open. Rita froze. She wanted to flee, to try and outrun the horror, but she took a deep breath and went to her daughter's side, laying her hand on top of Luan's.

"Here," Harold said, pushing a chair over. Rita sat and stroked her daughter's hand, whispering her name.

"Mrs. Loud?"

Rita turned as a tall man with a bald head entered the room. He was wearing a white lab coat over rumpled blue scrubs. He smiled tightly. "I'm Dr. Greg Dharma. They told me you were here."

"I just got here," Rita said, glancing between Luan and Dharma. "How is she?"

Dharma sighed. "Your daughter suffered severe head trauma in the crash. When the first responders extracted her, she wasn't breathing. She inserted a breathing tube into the trachea and brought her to us. A CT scan revealed widespread swelling of the brain. We applied a number of different stimuli, to which Luan did not respond. When we checked her eyes, there were no spontaneous eye movements, no signs of consciousness on any level, though her pupils did react, which is encouraging, as it means that she isn't brain dead. Instead, she's comatose."

Rita's hand flew to her mouth.

Dharma went into detail about Luan's condition, using a lot of words and phrases she didn't recognize.

"The part of the brain responsible for wakefulness is the _reticular activating system_ , a collection of neurons in the upper brainstem that send widespread stimulatory projections to the areas of the brain responsible for awareness. When the RAS stimulates the brain, a person's eyes open. If the RAS is not functioning normally, then the patient is incapable of becoming conscious and the eyes will not open—even in response to painful stimuli. She is initiating breaths on her own, but needs the support of a ventilator. When we inserted the breathing tube, she gagged. As I said, this is a sign that she is not braindead, but does not indicate whether she will regain full consciousness."

"How long will she be like this?" Rita asked, her head spinning.

"Most comas last about two weeks, despite what you see on TV. If she wakes, she may display signs of neurological damage. Comas often progress to a heightened state of consciousness, the vegetative state, where the patient is awake but not aware."

Rita lost it. She put her face in her hands and wept. Her daughter was going to be a vegetable.

"Of course that doesn't mean it will happen in this case," Dharma said. "I just want you to be prepared for the possibility. I've seen patients come back from worse. It is likely that there will be some permanent brain damage. At this point, we don't know if that is the case or to what extent. The brain is a notoriously tricky thing. My advice to you is to talk to her as though she can hear and understand you. Many patients have come out of comas remembering conversations between others."

Rita nodded.

After Dharma had gone, Rita squeezed her daughter's hand. "Luan," she said, fighting to keep her voice calm and steady, "baby...I love you. I love you so much. Come back to me. Come home."

* * *

"How are you feeling this morning, honey?" the nurse asked. Bright morning sunshine bathed the room, making it uncomfortably warm despite the air conditioning.

"Alright," Lana said, her voice nasally. She was sitting in the middle of the bed and gazing blankly up at the TV on the wall. When she woke up at sun rise and couldn't stand the silence, she turned it on with the intention of watching cartoons, but when she found the channel, hers and Lola's favorite show was on, and she couldn't bring herself to watch, so she turned it to CNN. That was safe, dull, white noise to keep the desolation at bay.

"How does your nose feel?"

"It hurts," she said.

The break was minor. Dr. Crawford manually reset it, pushing the broken bones back into place (which, even with laughing gas, hurt a lot) and packed her nostrils with soft gauze padding when the bleeding wouldn't stop. He gave her Tylenol, and it worked, for the most part. The pain was less than it was yesterday, but her nose still ached, and if she moved her head too suddenly, it shot into her head and she'd cry out, which made it hurt even worse.

"Do you need more Tylenol?" the nurse asked.

"Yes, please," Lana said.

"Alright, I'll go get it. In the meantime, you have a visitor."

"Who?"

"I'll send her in."

The nurse left the room, and a moment later Lucy entered. She was wearing the clothes she had been wearing yesterday (the clothes she seemed to wear _every_ day) instead of a hospital gown. When Lana saw her, a big grin spread across her face, which kind of hurt her nose, but it was worth it.

"Hey, Luce!" she said happily

"Hey," Lucy said, coming to the bed and sitting down. "I wanted to see how you were doing."

Lana shrugged. "My nose hurts." She looked away. "So does my heart."

"Mine too," Lucy said, looking down at her lap. "Is it broken? Your nose?"

"Yeah," Lana said. "I think I hit it on Lincoln's head."

Lucy flashed a ghost of a smile. "Did they tell you about Lincoln?"

Lana blinked, her heart seizing. "No, what? Last I heard his leg was broken."

"That's it," Lucy said. "His leg, I mean. I didn't know if they told you or not."

"You scared me," Lana said. "I thought something happened."

"Sorry," Lucy said, and put her hand on Lana's leg. "I didn't mean to scare you."

Lana squeezed her sister's hand. "It's okay. They letting you out?"

"Yeah," Lucy said, looking down at her clothes. "They discharged me a little while ago. He said he's going to discharge you too."

"Good," Lana said. "I don't want to be here anymore. I want to go home."

"Me too," Lucy said. She put her arm around Lana's shoulder and didn't say anything. The closeness of her sister was nice. She wasn't the most affectionate person in the world, but the long, sleepless night alone in a strange room made her yearn for her family with a desperate urgency that she had never known. When she dreamed, she dreamed of Lori and Lola and dad. When she woke, the thought ringing through her head was this: _What's the last thing I said to them?_

She couldn't remember, and that troubled her. She thought the last thing she said to dad was _okay_ after he told her it was time to leave. Okay. Nothing heartfelt, nothing substantive. Just "okay". To Lola it was "knock it off," if she recalled. She and Lana were arguing and slapping each other, and a wayward hand smacked her across the back of the head. "Knock it off," she said exasperatedly.

Knock it off.

Though she didn't know it, those were the last words she would ever say to her little sister. That thought made her cry.

Lucy hugged Lana, and Lana hugged her back. "I love you," Lucy said, blinking back more tears. "I love you so much."

"I love you too," Lana said, rubbing her sister's back. They stayed that way for a long time, neither one of them wanting to let go of the other.

"Hey, guys."

They turned their heads as one. Luna was standing in the doorway. She came forward and sat on the bed. Without speaking, they all embraced.

"How are you guys doing?" Luna asked, looking at them. She winced at Lana's nose. It was bandaged and held in place with a splint.

"Fine," Lucy said, then gave in and cried. Luna hugged her. "I love you," Lucy said, "I love you, Luna."

"I love you too," Luna said. "And you, Lana." She took Lana in her other arm and hugged her too. "How does your nose feel?"

"It looks worse than it is," Lana said. "Have you seen Lincoln?"

Luna nodded. "His leg's messed up but he's okay. They're going to keep him for a while."

"How long?" Lucy asked.

"Like a week."

Neither Lucy nor Lana looked happy about that.

"He wants to see you guys. They said you're discharged, Lucy. I asked about you Lana and they said they're doing your paperwork now."

"Is mom here?" Lana asked.

"Yeah," Luna said. "She's with Luan."

"How's she?" Lucy asked.

Luna bit her bottom. "Not good. S-She's in a coma."

The two younger Loud girls' faces showed their pain. Luna rubbed both of their heads. "The doctor said she should wake up soon." She didn't tell them that she might wake up with severe brain damage. That didn't need to be said.

Not right now.

* * *

Lincoln was absently watching a Judge Judy knockoff on Fox when his mother came into the room, along with Harold McBride. "Hey, sweetie," mom said, coming to him and kissing him on the top of the head. Lincoln sat up straighter and hugged her. "Hi, mom. Hi, Mr. McBride."

"Hey, Lincoln," Harold said. "How are you feeling?"

"It hurts," Lincoln admitted. "I didn't really feel much yesterday. Is Clyde here?"

Harold shook his head. "No, I haven't told him yet. I wanted to make sure you were up to it before he came."

Luna, Lucy, and Lana came into her room then, and when Lincoln saw them, his face brightened. "Hey, guys!"

"Linc!" Lana shouted, and ran to his bedside. He reached out and took her hand. "How you feeling, Linc?"

He shrugged. "My leg hurts a little. How's your nose?"

"It hurts too. It was worse when they reset it, though."

Lucy came up and put her hand on his shoulder. He couldn't see her eyes through her bangs, but he could sense something was different about her. "I love you," she said evenly, and he leaned his head against her hand.

"I love you too."

"How's Lisa?" Lincoln asked his mother, "and Leni? Did they come?"

"No, honey, they stayed at home. We couldn't fit them all in the car with Luna, Lana, and Lucy coming home."

"I'm not going," Luna said casually, sitting next to Lincoln.

"What?" Rita blinked.

Luna looked up at her, her face serious. "I can't leave him alone, mom. I –" her voice cracked and she blinked away tears. "I can't let him be in here alone." The thought of him alone and afraid made it very hard to keep her composure.

"Honey, I don't think they'll let you stay."

"Well, I'm not leaving him." She put her arm around his shoulder.

Rita sighed. She understood Luna's position, and loved her for it. The least she could do was talk to Dr. Carson and see if they would be okay with it. She doubted they'd let her stay overnight. "I'll ask."

At the nurses' station, she asked about Dr. Carson. Even as she spoke, she saw him coming down the hall, studying a clipboard in his hands.

"Dr. Carson?"

He looked up, saw her, and smiled. "Good morning, Mrs. Loud. I was just going to see Lincoln after my next patient. Luna's ready to go when you are."

"Actually," Rita said, "she isn't."

Carson cocked his head, worry coming into his eyes. "Why not? Has something happened?"

"No. She doesn't want to leave her brother. She wants to stay with him."

Sighing with relief, Carson smiled. "That shouldn't be a problem. It's not exactly encouraged, but I think they need each other right now. Your children seem to be very close with one another."

Rita nodded. "They are."

"That's good," Carson said, "especially at a time like this."

"Thank you," Rita said, fighting back new tears (why could she stop crying?). "I know it'll mean a lot to her. And Lincoln too."

"Family is the most important thing in the world, Mrs. Loud. And at certain times, the best medicine too."


	7. All Along the Watchtower

It was 3pm. Mom, Lana, and Lucy had been gone for nearly an hour. Luna hoped they would stay longer, but she understood that they couldn't. Mom had three funerals to plan, after all.

She and Lincoln were watching a rerun of _Impractical Jokers_ on TruTV. They held each other and tried to forget the past twenty-four hours (had it _really_ only been _one day?_ ) "You don't have to stay," Lincoln had said earlier.

"Yes I do," she replied. "You were there when I needed you, and I couldn't call myself your sister if I didn't do the same. Plus..."

"What?"

She sighed and tried to collect her thoughts. She could articulate herself fine in her music, but when it came to talking, she sometimes struggled. "It's, like...I don't know. Here it's all on pause, you know? Once we go home it starts and...becomes real?"

"I know what you mean," he said; he usually did understand her. "It's easier to focus on here and now. At home..."

"Yeah," she said, nodding.

Neither had spoken since, content simply to sit in comfortable silence. Luna surprised herself when she said, "It's scary how quickly things can change. One minute everything's okay, then your life's upside down."

"It's weird," he agreed. "I mean, something that big...you don't expect it to happen like _that_."

"I still can't believe they're gone." She closed her eyes and successfully held the tears back.

"It doesn't seem real." He sighed. "I feel bad because I haven't even really cried. I don't...I just don't _feel_ it. You know? I know in my head they're gone, but not in my heart."

"I wish I felt like that," Luna said, and uttered a forced laugh. "I feel like I'm falling apart."

"I wish I felt like _you_ ," Lincoln said, "it's like I don't even care."

That brought the tears, and Luna held him. "Dude, don't think like that. Of course you care. You're just in shock."

"I feel like a piece of shit," Lincoln said through his tears.

"You're not a piece of shit," Luna said. "You just have to adjust. Everyone gets there in their own time."

Lincoln gripped her arm. "But I love them. Why am I not falling apart like you?"

"You just have to get there on your own. I know you love them, but people don't all grieve the same. I can guarantee you Lynn punched a hole in the wall when mom told her. When mom told me, I went so limp I couldn't make a fist if my life depended on it. I bet Lisa didn't cry. And she might not cry until the funeral, or even for months."

Lincoln took a deep, watery breath and pushed it out. "I guess," he said miserably. He looked up at her, unshed tears standing in his eyes. Luna's heart broke, and she leaned her forehead against his.

"We're all hurting. We just show it in different ways."

"Remember when Lucy came in and said she loved me?"

Luna nodded. "She did the same when she saw me."

"It kind of surprised me. She's said it before, but not often."

Nodding, Luna said, "I didn't expect it either, but I get it."

"I just...I've been thinking. What was the last thing you said to Lori? Lola? Dad?"

Luna opened her mouth to speak, but closed it. She couldn't remember. She thought back to that day. The last time she could recall seeing Lola before getting into the car was when she came storming out of hers and Lana's room after an argument. "Whoa, WWIII again?" Luna asked (or remembered asking). "She's impossible," Lola huffed.

Not long after that, dad called up the stairs that it was time to go get mom. "Sure thing, dad, just give me a sec!" Did she talk to him after that? Then Lori...didn't Lori brush past her in the hall without saying sorry? "Rude much?" Luna asked.

Those were the last things she ever said to three of the most important people in her life. She would never talk to them again.

That made her want to cry, but she kept it together, for Lincoln's sake. "Nothing important," she said glumly.

"Right? I think..." he trailed off and squeezed her arm. She looked up at him. "I love you, Luna. I want you to know that."

She swallowed around a lump in her throat, an errant tear slipping through her defenses. "I love you too, Lincoln. You mean the world to me."

For a long time after that, they held each other's hand and looked at the TV, neither actually seeing. Luna ran through the last conversations she'd had with each member of her family, remembering some, completely forgetting others. It's amazing how much banality there is in life, how much small talk and chit-chat even among people who loved each other dearly. Then again, no one ever expects a random conversation with their daughter or husband or sister to be the last one they'll ever have. Luna certainly didn't expect her conversations yesterday to be the last she would have with her father and two of her sisters. Lincoln was right. It didn't feel real. In the movies, death is a big to-do. People say tearful goodbyes and there's a sense of impending dread in the atmosphere. It doesn't just happen like a lightning bolt from the sky. No one ever said, "Get milk" to their wife only to have her dead five minutes later.

Lincoln wracked his brain trying to remember the last things he'd said to dad, Lola, and Lori, but couldn't. Everything beyond waking in the van with his leg pinned under the seat was hazy. He vaguely recalled Lana and Lola slapping fighting across his lap, then rolling. He _thought_ he remembered Luan getting to the sweet spot before him and saying it was taken, but he couldn't be sure. Everything from yesterday had the murky, abstract quality of dreams. Did it really matter what he said, though? Whatever it was, it wasn't enough, it wasn't what he _should_ have said. He should have told Lola, Lori, and his father that he loved them. He should have told them how much they meant to him, and how much he appreciated them. But he didn't. He probably said something stupid like "Cut it out, Lola!" or "Okay, dad!" His last chance to talk to them, and he wasted it. Now he'd never get the opportunity again.

"I'm gonna go get a soda from the vending machine," Luna said, slipping away from him and getting up. "You want something?"

"Is there a candy machine?"

"Yeah, I think so."

"I could go for some chocolate."

Luna smiled. "You got it, bro."

* * *

 _It's not fair...it's not fair and you know it._

"I know no such thing," she muttered to herself. She was sitting at her lab, her arms crossed and her head down. She tried to pick up the research she was conducting the previous afternoon, but he heart wasn't in it. In fact, the sight of her test tubes, beakers, and other equipment made her anxious.

 _It was an accident. It's not her fault._

"Partly, yes, it is."

Like her siblings, Lisa was elated that Lucy and Lana were coming home, and waited for them in the living room with everyone else. When they came through the door and she laid eyes on Lana, however, she flashed back to the van. The image was so vivid, so lifelike, that it might as well have been time travel: Lana and Lola were bickering in the back. Their father looked into the rearview mirror. "Knock it off!"

Then Luna screamed, and they flipped over. Lisa could _feel_ her nose hitting the seat, could hear the windows shattering as the roof caved in. When she came back to herself, her heart was racing and her breathing was ragged.

"Lisa, honey, are you okay?" mom asked, coming over and sitting next to her.

"I'm fine," Lisa lied, "I just...I need to be alone."

Without waiting for a reply, she got up, slipped into the kitchen, and went up the back stairs to avoid her sisters. In her room, she sat at her lab and tried to quell the anger rising in her chest. _It's her fault. If she and Lola hadn't been fighting, none of this would be happening._

As the afternoon progressed, she talked herself out of the worst of her rage. Lana (and Lola) did not mean for it to happen. Then again, the captain of the Titanic didn't mean to sail into an iceberg, but that probably wouldn't have been much consolation to the people freezing to death in the water. A part of her said she should drop it. Don't assign blame. Don't point fingers. You and your family need to draw close now more than ever. Another part, a slightly bigger part, wanted Lana to take a long walk off a short pier.

Despite Lisa's anger, that bothered her.

 _Their petty squabbling forced our father to divert his attention from the road, delaying his reaction time. Had he been watching the road instead of mediating a vapid feud, he may have avoided the hazard in time._

 _But maybe he wouldn't have. How much warning would he have had had he been watching the road? Milliseconds. If that. And the shock of watching tragedy unfold before him may, theoretically, have led him to react in a manner similar to the one he_ did _react in._

 _And even if it is partially her fault, she needs you, and you need her. She must be suffering more than any of us, as she lost a twin, and losing a twin is like losing an extension of yourself._

A knock came at the door, and Lisa jumped. "Come in."

"It's me," Lucy said, coming in.

"Hey, Lise," Lana added. Lisa prickled at the sound of her voice, but forced her emotions down.

"How are you doing?" Lucy asked.

"As well as can be expected," Lisa replied. She turned. Lucy and Lana were standing in the doorway, holding hands.

"I just wanted to say I love you," Lucy said, mildly surprising Lisa.

"I love you too," Lana said.

Lisa nodded. "I love the both of you as well." She got up, went to her sisters, and hugged them.

* * *

Rita Loud met with Gerald Clarke, of Clarke and Hunter Funeral Home, at 5pm that afternoon. They had spoken earlier on the phone, and Rita was surprised to see that the small, wispy voice belonged to a large man with jowls and a military buzzcut. He was wearing a black suit with a red tie, and when she entered, he came over to her, moving with the agility and grace of a much smaller man.

"Mrs. Loud? I'm Gerald Clark." They shook, his hand swallowing hers, his grip surprisingly delicate. "Come right this we and we can discuss your needs."

In his office, Clarke sat and pushed a folder across the shiny plain of his desk. "First of all, I want to offer you my sincerest condolences. I know words are insufficient at a time like this, but we here at Clarke and Hunter are dedicated to providing quality services to our clients. Here - " he opened the folder – "is a selection of the products and services we offer. Take as much time as you need."

Rita opened the folder with trembling hands and leafed through it. There were pictures of coffins. Coffins everywhere. Big ones. Little ones. Simple ones. Ornate ones. She felt tears welling in her eyes and bit down on the inside of her lip so hard she winced.

"I don't have a lot of money to spend," she said. "I feel so terrible for worrying about money at a time like this."

"Don't. 9 times out of 10 finances are a concern. We do offer a generous payment plan, and if you choose to go with one of our less expensive options, your loved ones will receive quality, dignified care regardless."

 _I never thought I'd be coffin shopping,_ she thought as she sighed. Of course she knew that one day Lynn Sr. would die. Maybe after her, maybe before. But that was so far in the future she could barely see it. It was a thought for another time, another decade. As for her children...

She shut that thought off. She selected three caskets. They were simple, silver with black inlay. She pointed them out to Clarke, and he nodded. "A very good choice," he said. "Would you like a lining?"

"Uh..." she thought. Did it matter? Did it really matter? "Yes," she finally said. "I want blue for my daughter Lori..." she choked. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Clarke said. He handed her a tissue and she took it with a nod.

"Pink for Lola. It was her favorite color." She took a deep breath. "And white for Lynn."

Clarke nodded and wrote down her selections. "We will handle everything, naturally," he said, setting down his pen. "Have you given thought to when you'd like the funeral to be?"

"No," Rita said. "My son's still in the hospital and I want him to be there. My daughter too, but I don't know if that will be possible. My son should be out in a week."

"Alright, we can make those arrangements at a later time." Clarke sat aside the folder. "Do you have any questions?"

Rita shook her head. "No." She could have thought of some, but she suddenly didn't want to be here anymore, surrounded by death and bereavement.

Outside, the summer sun fell impotently against her skin. She was cold, but it was a cold not of body but of spirit. She crossed her arms and rubbed herself. She felt sick. Harold was waiting in the car, and when she walked over, he looked up from a magazine. "Are you finished?"

"Yes," she said, and got in.

"Is there anywhere else you need me to take you? I'm all yours."

"I-I need to take some things to Lincoln and Luna. And I want to see Luan. If you don't mind."

"Not at all," Howard replied, backing out of the space.

"Thank you," Rita said, "I really appreciate it."

Harold patted her on the knee. "It's the least I can do."

* * *

She sat on her bed, her back against the wall. She stared at the other side of the room, her eyes leaking and her nose aching. There were pictures of Lola everywhere, many of them professional studio portraits, but some of them candid snapshots she deemed "good enough" for display. Over there, on a shelf, were her trophies, tiaras, ribbons, and plaques. For twenty-four hours, Lana Loud's mind had been occupied with worry over her family and with the prospect of seeing them. Now that she had reached that destination, she had nothing to focus on but the gnawing emptiness in the pit of her stomach. She missed her father and she missed Lori, but Lola...Lola was different. She was Lola and Lola was her. Now Lola was gone and she was alone. She held up her hand and looked at it. _It might as well have been you_ , she thought.

Restless and stricken, she drew her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. The pain was bad. The grief. But the feeling of _missing_ something was worse. It was a gasping, quivering _need_ that could never be filled, a _thirst_ that could never be quenched.

 _And it's my fault. It's all my fault._

She wept desolately.

* * *

Sometime in the night, Lincoln Loud dreamed he heard sobbing in the dark.

" _What's wrong?"_ he asked groggily.

" _I had a bad dream,"_ Luna said. He could barely make out her face in the dark. Her eyes were wide. _"You died."_

Those words struck him with the force of a fist; in the drugged netherworld between sleep and consciousness, they seemed an omen.

Luna touched his face. _"I love you so much, Lincoln."_

" _I love you too."_

The world swam away and he knew no more. Next to him, Luna watched him sleep, her heart swelling with love. She stroked his cheek and listened to the sound of his breathing. The dream nagged at the edges of her mind, but she forced it away. She couldn't stand the thought of losing him. If she entertained it, she would go crazy and never, ever come back.


	8. Stiff Upper Lip

Thursday morning came rainy and gray, the murky, dishwater light falling through the window and painting the wall a bleak opaque. Clyde McBride lie awake, staring at the shadows crawling across the ceiling. He hadn't slept, and he didn't think he would ever sleep again.

The night before, his dads sat him down and told him about Lincoln's accident. They also told him that Lola and Mr. Loud were dead.

And so was Lori.

The news didn't affect him the way he thought it would. Instead of launching into hysterics, he dropped into warm numbness. He did not cry. He went through the rest of the night with a strange detachment. He felt like he was outside of himself, watching as he ate dinner, watched TV with his parents, and brushed his teeth before bed. Lying in the darkness, it all came apart, and he wept into his pillow. When his tears were spent, he curled up in a fetal position and snuggled under the covers. Visions of Lori flickered through his mind.

He loved her. No one might have believed that, but he did. He knew he didn't stand a chance with her. He knew she was happy with Bobby, and that even if she wasn't, he would literally be the last person on her list of men-to-date (behind even Lincoln, probably), but, even so, he loved her, cherished her, admired her, and if he had to do all of those things from afar, so be it. Just seeing her and hearing her voice was enough to sustain him.

And now she was gone.

Clyde was not stupid. He knew what death was. Still, as he lie there under the covers, he fought to wrap his head around the concept...as it applied to Lori, at least. How could she just be _gone?_ It didn't make sense to him, and he was still trying to puzzle it out when he fell asleep an hour later.

* * *

Rita Loud spent most of Thursday afternoon sitting next to Luan, holding her hand, talking to her, and stroking her cheek. The sorrow she felt at seeing her daughter in such dire straits was tinged with fresh hope: Dr. Dharma said her eyelids fluttered during the night. _"This means she's closer to the surface than we initially thought. If so, her chances of having sustained serious brain damage are cut by half."_

"Fight," Rita whispered, "fight with everything you have, baby. I can't lose you. None of us can lose you."

She squeezed her daughters hand and prayed to God that she would squeeze back, but she didn't, and Rita left dejected. On the third floor, she found Lincoln and Luna sitting together in bed reading a comic book. When she entered, they both looked up and brightened. "Hey, mom!" Luna said.

"Hi, guys," Rita smiled, crossing the room. She kissed Luna then Lincoln, and hugged them both. "How are you doing?"

"Alright," Lincoln said.

"He's starting to get restless," Luna said.

"A little," Lincoln admitted. "I'm tired of being in bed."

"I know, honey," Rita said, sitting, "but you have to be."

"How's everything at home?" Luna asked.

Rita thought for a moment. Could she really say everything was 'okay' or 'alright'? Lisa was terrified of cars; Lynn was so upset that every minor inconvenience sent her into a virtual rage; and each and every one of them clung to her and each other. They were all suffering. They all had nightmares. The previous night, Rita woke to Leni, Lisa, Lucy, and Lana in her bed; she was surprised it didn't collapse under the weight.

"Everyone's trying to cope," Rita finally said. "They wanted to come, but we couldn't all fit into Mr. McBride's car. They want you guys home. _I_ want you guys home."

"The doctor says Lincoln's leg is healing good," Luna said, "so maybe they'll let him out early."

"That's a possibility," Dr. Carson said, startling everyone. He came into the room, nodded to Rita, and looked at Lincoln. "I don't want to get your hopes up, but you're doing a little better than we expected, so, if you promise to stay off that leg for a while, you might be able to go home Saturday."

Lincoln's face lit up. "Really?"

"Really," Carson said. He turned to Rita. "I don't want him trying to walk for at least six weeks. He's going to need a wheelchair in the interim. Once the six weeks are up and if everything looks good, he'll need crutches."

"Alright," Rita said, feeling giddy at the prospect of having her son and daughter home. "I'll make sure he has everything he needs."

Carson nodded. "Good."

When Carson was gone, Rita said, "That's good news! Your sisters will be so happy." _And God knows they could use a reason to be happy_ , she added to herself.

"Yeah," Lincoln said, then: "How's Luan?"

"Better," Rita said. "The doctor said her eyelids moved yesterday. She's not as bad off as they thought."

Luna smiled, and Lincoln grinned.

"She's still not awake," Rita cautioned, "but she could wake up anytime."

After their mother left, Luna settled back against her pillow and sighed. "I feel really bad for not going to see Luan," she said, crossing her arms. "I just don't want to see her like that, you know?"

Lincoln nodded. "Yeah, but maybe if you went and saw her it would help."

"Maybe," she allowed. She tried to picture Luan lying in bed, unconscious and hooked up to a plethora of machines, but couldn't; the image was too painful, and she shuddered.

"You should really go see her," Lincoln said.

Luna nodded. "You're right." She made no move to get up, though. She thought back to the dream she had the night before, the one where Lincoln died.

She didn't want to leave him.

"Please?" he asked. "For me?"

She sighed. "Alright. I'll go. But let's finish our comic first, okay? I wanna see how Ace Savvy gets out of that jam."

"Okay," Lincoln said, and smiled.

* * *

She sat before the vanity mirror, studying her face. Her lips were red and her eyes were heavily shadowed. She had never worn make-up before, and it was smudged in places, uneven in others. It was close enough, she decided, and put the tiara on. He smiled, and for a moment it was like she was looking at her twin. She tried to speak, but her lips were quivering, threatening another crying fit, so she clamped them closed and simply looked at herself. That was enough; for a little while, she could pretend that Lola was with her, she could pretend that the past two days had been only a bad dream, and that now, everything was back to normal. Lori was texting with Bobby in the room, or maybe downstairs on the couch; dad was making beans and franks and wearing that girly pink apron he loved so much; and Lola was sitting across from her. They were having a tea party.

Lana picked up a teapot with trembling hands and looked at herself in the mirror. "More, dear?" she asked, mimicking Lola's voice. It wasn't working. She looked like Lola, but did not sound like her.

"Sure," she said in her normal voice, "I'd love some more, sis. I love playing tea party with you."

She pretended to pour a measure into a cup, then lifted the cup to her lips. "Mmmm, good. What kind of tea is this?"

"Oh," she said in her Lola voice, "it's a fancy tea from France. You wouldn't know what it is."

"Okay. It's good."

She pretended to pour another cup.

"I love spending time with you," she said as herself. She looked at the mirror. "And I love _you_."

"I love you too," Lola said.

* * *

Once upon a time, someone (she forgot who) told her: _There's no problem on earth that hitting a ball won't solve_. Up until today, she believed that. Normally, the crack of the bat against a baseball was satisfying, the jarring vibration of the impact therapeutic. Not now. She sent the ball flying over the fence, but she felt nothing, only fatigued. She threw the bat onto the ground and walked off diamond, sitting heavily in the dugout with a sigh; she put her face in her hands and stayed that way.

"You alright?" Coach Vickers asked, sitting next to her. A tall, mannish woman with the makings of a mustache, Coach Vickers had never particularly liked Lynn. At least that's how Lynn felt. She always pushed her harder, yelled at her louder, demanded she do more. Today, however, she'd shown a tenderness that not only surprised Lynn, but kind of put her off. She didn't want people's sympathy or their condolences. Already all of her friends had come to her and hugged her, telling her how sorry they were. She didn't like that; she hated being the object of everyone's pity.

"My head's just not in the game," she said.

"I wouldn't think so," Coach said. "I'm surprised to see you back so soon."

Lynn shrugged. "I thought it'd make me feel better."

"Nothing's going to make it feel better. Except time."

Lynn looked at her; she was gazing out at the diamond, the gray light touching her masculine face. "When I was fifteen, my mom died. Cancer. I punched the sliding glass door and broke it into a million pieces. Messed my hand up, too." Vickers sighed, a small grin touching her lips. "I tried everything to get my mind off it. And you know what?"

"What?" Lynn asked.

"The only thing that worked was time; you can't expect to bounce back from something like this in a couple days, or even a couple weeks. It takes a while."

Lynn looked down at her feet. "I miss them. And it hurts so bad."

"I know it does," Coach said, and put her hand on Lynn's shoulder. "And to be honest, it's going to hurt for a long time. Even now, sometimes I hurt, and my mom's been gone twenty-five years." She paused. "I want you to do something for me, okay?"

"What?" Lynn asked, uncertain.

"Take as much time as you need to get back in the game. There's always a place for you here."

Lynn looked up at her. Vickers grinned. "You're my best player. Why do you think I spend so much time on you?"

"I thought you didn't like me," Lynn admitted.

"If I didn't like you I'd leave you alone." She squeezed Lynn's shoulder and smiled. "Now go home. Your family's more important than a ball."

Lynn nodded.

She was right.

* * *

Clyde and his dads visited just before dinner, and Luna took the oppritunity to slip out and walk down to the ICU.

"I'm looking for my sister," she told the nurse at the nurses' station, "Luan Loud."

"One minute, please."

Luna waited for two, then the nurse said, "She's in room 502. Just down the hall."

"Thanks," Luna said, and started in the direction the nurse had indicated, dread and anxiety rising within her. As she walked, she glanced into the rooms flanking the corridor. She saw people in oxegyn tents, people in body casts, people limp and looking dead, hooked up to machines and ventilators, their chests rising and falling with artificial air. She turned away and closed her eyes. At Luan's room, she paused. She didn't want to go in there. She didn't want to see Luan like this.

She forced herself in.

For a long time, she stood by the door, looking at her sister, tears threatening to overwhelm her. She came forward, sat next to the bed, and simply watched Luan's placid face. She had bruises on her cheeks and forehead; an angry scratch ran the length of her right cheek. Aside from the whirr of the ventilator and the constant _beep-beep-beep_ of the heart monitor, the room was silent.

"Hey, sis," Luna finally said, her voice shaky. "It's me, Luna. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner. I guess I kind of chickened out." She put her hand on top of Luan's and scanned her face for any signs of understanding: A fluttering eyelid, a twitching muscle. She saw nothing, and her heart throbbed. "I just...I just didn't want to see you all messed up, you know?" She sighed. Tears were sliding down her cheeks. "I love you, Luan. Maybe I don't say it enough, but I do. You mean the world to me. I groan at your jokes, okay, but I like them. They make my day, and I haven't heard one in forever and it makes me so fucking sad."

She broke down and cried. She hadn't realized how much she missed her sister; for the past two days she had been so focused on Lincoln and on her own grief that she lost track.

"Everything's so messed up," she said through her tears. "I _need_ you, Luan. Please wake up."

She sat with Luan for nearly two hours, holding her hand and talking to her. The younger girl showed no signs of wakefulness, and much like their mother before her, Luna left with a heavy heart.

She did not hear the heart monitor beep twice in rapid succession, and did not see Luan's fingers twitch...


	9. Don't Cry

Lincoln Loud woke early on the morning of the funeral, his back stiff and his neck sore. He looked over at Luna curled up beside him, and smiled. He'd been home for nearly a week, and despite his fears, she hadn't left his side: She even slept on the foldout sofa with him, since he couldn't climb the stairs. During the day, she sat with him, played her guitar for him, read comics with him, and tended to him like a worried mother. On his first day back, she wouldn't even let him reach for the TV remote. "You just take it easy, bro," she said, leaning over and grabbing it herself. "What do you wanna watch?"

"I don't know," he said, "I was just going to channel surf."

"Say no more." She pointed the remote at the TV and went methodically through every single station.

"This?"

"No."

Click.

"This?"

"No."

Click.

He was alternately annoyed and touched. On his second day, when she brought him his dinner and sat next to him, he said, "You don't have to do all of this, Luna."

"Yes, I do," she said.

His other sisters came and went. The day he came home, they were all waiting by the door, and when mom pushed him into the living room in his rented wheelchair, they all screamed and hugged him, Lynn first. "I missed you, bro," she said, throwing her arms around his neck. "How do you feel?"

"Alright."

Luna was the only constant, though. He felt bad because all she did was baby him. It was Lincoln, Lincoln, Lincoln 24/7.

"I feel like I'm a burden," he said last night. They were sitting together in the darkened living room, a late night infomercial playing unheeded on TV. They had both tried to sleep, but couldn't.

"Don't say that," she said seriously, and held his hand. "I love you, Lincoln. I'm doing this because I want to." She kissed his hand, and he smiled. "There it is," she said playfully. She had seen so little of his smile over the past week that she'd forgotten how beautiful it was; it made her heart bounce and her stomach flutter. She put her arm around his shoulder and kissed his cheek.

"Cut it out," he giggled, blushing.

The held each other through the night. "I like this," Lincoln said at one point, not sure if she was awake or asleep.

"Me too," she said.

Over the past week, he had grown accustomed to having her constantly around; when he thought of getting better and things going back to the way they were, his chest tightened with anxiety. He said as much, and she turned, putting her hand on his cheek. "Me too," she said, "me too."

Now, sitting up in the morning sun, Lincoln looked at her, her face serene and her lips slightly parted. He reached for her, but pulled back. She needed sleep. Neither one of them had been getting enough lately. _No one_ was getting enough. At least twice a night one of their sisters would steal down in the night and sit with them. Sometimes it was Lynn, sometimes it was Lucy or Lana.

Lana had taken to wearing make-up in private. She didn't think anyone knew, but Lincoln sometimes saw smudged eye shadow she'd missed when she wiped it all off, and once or twice her lips were pink, as though she'd wiped them raw. "It probably makes her feel closer to Lola or something," Luna said the other day. Luna didn't tell him that she walked in on Lana sitting in front of the mirror wearing Lola's clothes; when she walked in, for a moment she could have sworn it _was_ Lola, and the eeriest feeling rose in her. Lana didn't notice her, so she scurried away as quickly as she could.

Lincoln leaned back and closed his eyes. His hand crept to Luna's arm. It was warm and soft. He liked touching her. He liked holding her, and being held by her, too. It made him feel safe. When he was with her, it was easy to tune everything else out. When he held her hand and looked into her eyes, it was as though there was nothing else in the world but them.

She stirred, and he opened his eyes.

"Hey, bro," she said with a little smile.

"I didn't mean to wake you," he said.

"I was up. Kind of."

Lincoln sighed. "I don't want to do this."

For a moment, Luna didn't know what he was talking about, then it dawned on her. "Yeah, neither do I."

The viewing at the funeral home the day before yesterday had been hard enough. He was fine (or as fine as he could be) before Luna wheeled him inside; that's when it hit him that he was going to see three of the people he loved most in this world lying in caskets. He started to panic, his breath coming hard.

"It's okay, bro," Luna said, putting a hand on his shoulder and squeezing. "I'll be right there with you."

In the viewing room, the coffins were laid out side-by-side. When Lincoln saw them, his stomach clenched and he closed his eyes. No. Please, no.

"It's gonna be alright," Luna said, her voice thick with tears, "okay? It's gonna be alright, bro."

His sisters lined up to pass by the coffins, and Lincoln was thankful that he and Luna were last. He watched as each stopped at dad, then Lori, then Lola, their heads bowed and their expressions strained. At dad's coffin, Lynn broke down, and Lucy hugged her. Lana stopped at Lola's coffin and stood there, gazing down at her with blank eyes. Lincoln watched her; she remained after the others had passed. When she finally moved, she took Lola's hand in her own and held it to her face. She was crying when mom came over and put her arm around her.

When it was his turn, he took a deep breath and told himself not to cry. Luna wheeled him forward, and he doubled his resolve. _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry._

He was surprised at how peaceful dad looked. He'd heard people say of dead bodies "It looks just like they're asleep," but he never thought it was true. There's a big difference between sleeping and being dead. Dad, on the other hand, looked like he'd open his eyes at any moment and sit up. Lincoln reached out and touched his face just to be sure; his flesh was cold, and he yanked his hand back as if he'd been bitten.

Lori was wearing her confirmation dress. It was pale blue with white lace trim. She, too, did not look dead. Lincoln blinked back tears as he remembered all the arguments they'd had, all the joys they'd shared, all the life they'd lived together.

Lola was last. She was wearing a pink dress and one of her tiaras. Her face was made-up, and she looked just as beautiful in death as she had in life. Her casket was so small, Lincoln noted. Did they really have to make them that small?

He wept then, and Luna knelt beside him, taking his head in her arms. He tried to speak, tried to tell her how unfair it was, how Lola had so much life ahead of her, but the words wouldn't come, so he simply cried.

Presently, Luna rubbed Lincoln's back and sighed. "This is it, though. The last time...last time we'll see them."

Lincoln nodded. He knew. After those caskets were closed today, they would never lay eyes upon their father or their sisters again. That thought disturbed him greatly.

Sensing his distress, Luna snuggled close to him. "We'll get through this, Lincoln. I promise."

He laid his hand on the top of her head. "I know." He looked at her and smiled. "I can get through anything with you by my side."

* * *

Rita Loud woke with this on her mind: _This is the day I bury my husband and daughters_.

The thought did not bring tears. She'd cried so much over the past week and a half that she didn't think she had anything left. She was like a wet rag that had been wrung dry. The ache in her chest remained as sharp as ever, but her eyes had been dry for days.

It wasn't all bad. Luan was doing better. She moved her fingers here and there, and once, while Rita was holding her hand, her lips trembled as if she were trying to form words. Dr. Dharma was carefully watching her. "I think the likelihood of her emerging in a vegetative state is virtually zero. It could happen, Mrs. Loud, so don't quote me, but it's been my experience that patients who display this kind of brain activity regain full consciousness."

That was...Tuesday? Wednesday? She couldn't remember; all of her days blended together anymore. It was before the viewing, at any rate. She was sitting by Luan's bedside and Dharma was going over her latest CT scans. "The activity is there," he pointed to a mass of green, "she just can't wake up. The good news is, since her brain activity is increasing, I expect there to be a spark that leads to consciousness within the next couple days. That's an estimate, but I'm fairly certain it will happen. If I had to guess, I'd say Saturday."

"Will there be any damage?"

"I can't say. I don't think there will be any _major_ effects. She may not be entirely the same, Mrs. Loud, but the chances of her coming awake with any degree of retardation are microscopically small. I expect her to regain full motor control, though she may need therapy. She may have some memory loss, and her personality may be changed."

"Changed?"

"It does happen. There was a man in the 1840s named Phineas Gage who suffered a severe head injury: An explosion sent a railroad tie through his head. He recovered, but he did change in behavior and, indeed, nature. He became difficult and, to some reports, uncouth. He is said to have frequently lost his temper and to have forgotten his morals."

Rita ran her fingers through her hair. "Do you think Luan will be...different?" The thought of her daughter waking up irrevocably changed made her stomach hurt. She wanted Luan, the old Luan, not someone else who _looked_ like Luan...though she would take whatever she could get. As long as she had her daughter.

"It's possible. In her case, if she _does,_ it will only be slightly. The brain is a sensitive organ; it's also where we – our personality and our nature – are housed. I don't know if you're a religious woman, but if we have a soul, it's our brain. Unfortunately, our brains can be...scrambled, for lack of a better term, by any number of things, and we can change personality wise. The worst I predict for Luan is maybe some memory loss, trouble concentrated, and maybe, _maybe_ moodiness. We won't know until she wakes, though."

Sitting up in bed, Leni on one side of her and Lana on the other, Lucy lying across the foot, Rita said a silent prayer to God. For Luan. For all of them. _Help my baby wake up and help us make it through this day._

Moving carefully so not to wake her children, Rita slipped out of bed and went into the bathroom; she barely recognized the face in the mirror. Her skin was sallow, her eyes haunted. She noticed wrinkles around her eyes and mouth that hadn't been there ten days ago. There was a cluster of grays in her hair just above the right temple. The grays weren't new, however; she'd been going gray since she was thirty. She dyed her hair once a month. She was due, but the thought of taking the time to do it struck her as absurd.

In the shower, she turned the water as hot as she could stand and let the water cascade over her. She squeezed some body wash into her loofa, and absently scrubbed her arms and chest. She dreamed last night, she recalled suddenly, but what of? She wracked her brain. It wasn't a nightmare. It was a bittersweet dream, beautiful but sad when she woke. It had something to do with Lynn, she thought.

She sighed. God, she missed him. They were together for twenty-two years. So long...but not long enough. They were juniors in high school when they met. She was young and full of determination. He was young and goofy, but cute. Though she had some classes together, they didn't really "meet" until halfway through the second semester at a party hosted by a mutual friend of theirs: The guy she came with took off with the school skank, and she was sitting alone, dejected, when Lynn sat next to her.

"What's the difference," he said casually, "between snowmen and snowwomen?"

Rita looked up at him, an eyebrow raised. "What?"

"What's the difference between snowmen and snowwomen?"

"I don't know. What?"

"Snowballs."

Her shocked laughter was enough to break the ice. Two years later, they got married. Two years after that, they had Lori. Rita remembered the look on Lynn's face when he held his newborn daughter for the first time, and she leaned her head against the shower wall and cried, the sound masked by the hiss of the shower. She thought she was out of tears, but she was wrong.

You always have more tears.

When the storm passed, she finished washing herself, then got out, pulling a robe on. In her room, Leni was whimpering, and Rita sat next to her, reaching out a worried hand and touching her head. Leni jumped, her eyes flying open.

"It's okay," Rita said, "it was just a dream."

"A _bad_ dream," Leni said, and curled up tighter.

"About what, baby?"

"Daddy," she said, "and Lori. And Lola."

Rita stroked her daughter's hair. "I have bad dreams too."

"How do you stop them?"

"I don't," Rita said.

* * *

Luna helped Lincoln dress before the others came downstairs. The suit was a thrift store find, as was the black dress she wore.

"How does it look?" he asked.

She smiled. He was very handsome. "You look like a million bucks, bro."

"Thanks," he said, blushing. "You look pretty great too."

The dress was a size smaller than she would have liked. It clung too tightly to her form. She asked Leni's opinion before she bought it, "Does this look...wrong for a funeral?"

"No," Leni said. "It looks good on you."

She was self-conscious nevertheless. She noticed the way Lincoln looked at her, and didn't know whether to feel better or worse. She _liked_ the way he looked at her, but she wasn't trying to be sexy. She had a black jacket upstairs; it would be hot, but she could put it over the dress.

"It's not too tight?" she asked.

"No," Lincoln shook his head. "You look fine."

She sighed. "Okay. You want some breakfast?"

In the kitchen, she poured two bowls of cereal and handed one to Lincoln. "Don't spill any on yourself," Luna said, "mom would kick my ass."

Lincoln chuckled. "I won't."

They ate in silence. Upstairs, their siblings were stirring. The first to appear was Lynn, who was wearing a black dress much like Luna's (though hers actually fit) and a pair of black stockings. "Luna, can you zip me?" she asked, turning around and holding her hair away. Luna pulled up the zipper and said, "Kind of strange seeing you in a dress."

"Yeah, it feels strange," Lynn said. She looked at Lincoln. "You look like a banker," she said, and forced a strained smile.

"Luna _did_ say I look like a million bucks."

"Maybe only 500,000 bucks," Lynn said.

In her room, Lana stepped into her dress. It wasn't really hers, it was Lola's. It was black with gold trim around the neckline. The shoes she selected were black with a leopard print lining.

Sighing, she looked at herself in the mirror. When she woke up, she put her hair into pigtails like she did every morning, but now she decided she didn't like them. She let her hair down and brushed it. Then going over to Lola's trophy shelf, she selected a tiara and put it on. She studied her reflection. She didn't look like herself. She didn't _feel_ like herself. She felt...removed, detached.

At the viewing, she looked down into Lola's casket, and the strangest feeling she had ever expierenced came over her. It was her sister, she knew that, but gazing upon Lola's upturned face, it was like looking at herself.

 _I am you and you are me,_ she thought, _and I am dead._

She sat, and applied a touch of shadow to her eyes, then took a tube of pale red lipstick and brushed her lips with it. She puckered just like Lola had shown her, and nodded. She was ready. As she would ever be.

An hour later, the remaining Louds assembled in the living room, all of them looking somber and dressed in black. Bereavement hung heavy in the air, suffocating Lisa. She sat on the couch next to Lana, her arms crossed. She stole a glance at her sister, noticing the uncharacteristic make-up. Lana talked to herself at night. Lisa heard her once when she got up to use the bathroom. She would say something in her normal speaking voice, then reply in a high pitched falsetto that, Lisa supposed, was supposed to sound like Lola. A part of Lisa was concerned with this behavior. It was symptomatic of a psychotic breakdown. Another part of her hoped she _did_ break down. It would serve her right.

 _That's a hideous way of thinking._

It was, but she couldn't help herself.

Lana's mental state and her own blame assignment weren't important right now. What _was_ important was that in less than half an hour (maybe as little as fifteen minutes), Harold McBride would pull into the driveway in a rented 12-seat van, and Lisa would have to get into it. The very concept made her bowels quiver. Her hands, folded on her lap, began to tremble, and she dug her nails into her thighs to steady them. When she woke (from a dream of the accident, naturally) she considered begging off and playing sick, but she was well aware that if she skipped the funeral, she would miss out on an important step of the grieving process. Funerals provided closure. If she didn't attend, she would regret it; maybe not for twenty years, or even forty, but one day, she would wish she'd gone. That's what decided her. She would brave the ten minute ride to the church, the five minute ride to the cemetery, and the fifteen minute ride home.

Leni sat next to Lucy, her hand in her sister's. She slept with her mother again last night. She wasn't the smartest girl in the world, but she knew enough to know that she should be ashamed of this fact. She wasn't a little girl. She would be seventeen in November. Almost-seventeen-year-olds don't crawl into bed with their mommies. But what was she to do when being surrounded by the material ghost of her sister kept her awake? What was she to do when the room felt like a black void because half of it was empty? She never realized how used to Lori's presence she was. Not necessarily the sound of her breathing (though that played a part in it), but the feeling of her _being there_. The night of the accident, she spent three hours lying in bed, acutely aware that she was totally and utterly alone. That loneliness drove her out and into her mother's bed. The next night, she tried again, and actually fell asleep, but in her dream, she woke up and could hear Lori breathing, and terror came over her...because Lori was dead and shouldn't be there.

This morning, she woke from another dream. It was early and the hall was dark. She was waiting by the bathroom door and growing impatient because she had to pee. Sighing, she knocked, and Lori's voice came back, "Just a minute!"

Leni's blood turned to ice and she fell back a step. This wasn't right. Lori was dead. The _unnaturalness_ of the scene gripped her, and she was sure that when her sister opened the door and came out, she would start screaming and never stop. Though she would never tell anyone, she didn't want to go to the funeral, because she was afraid that Lori would open her eyes and reach out to her. If that happened, she would go insane.

Next to her, Lucy tried to forget the weeping she'd heard in the night as she lay in bed. Not her mother's weeping or Lana's, but the eerie, ghostly weeping emanating from the vent above her bed. At first it was toneless, but then, as time passed and her heartbeat quickened, it started to sound like Lola. Later on, it became her father, then for a while it was Lori. It could have been a dream, she reckoned, though she couldn't remember falling asleep. She hoped it was. She hoped to God it was.

In the armchair, Lynn twiddled her thumbs and dreaded the ordeal ahead. At the viewing, when she looked down at her father, she lost it and sobbed. She didn't want to do that today. Not in front of everyone. She wanted to be strong and stoic. That's who she was. Lynn Loud, strong and stable. Only she didn't think she _could_ be strong and stoic.

"There's Mr. McBride," mom said from her station by the window. Everyone looked up, and then at each other. Wordlessly, they got up and started heading outside. The last one to stand was Lisa. She sat with her eyes and fists clenched, her heart blasting against her ribcage. _You can do this_ , she told herself, _you can do this, you can do this, you can do this._ When her mother touched her cheek, she opened her eyes. The sadness she saw in her mother's face moved her.

"I know you're scared, baby." She bent down and kissed her on the forehead. "But please don't be. Everything's okay."

Lisa nodded. She had to be strong for her mother. She was under so much pressure lately, and all she was doing was adding to it.

Mom held out her hand, and Lisa took it.

 _You can do this, you can do this..._

* * *

The funeral was held at Christ the Redeemer Church on the corner of Elm and Oak, an ancient gothic building surrounded by lush green trees. Lincoln was surprised by how many people were in the pews. There was the Santiago family (Bobby with his head down and Ronnie Anne rubbing his back), Clyde and Howard, extended family (some he knew, some he didn't), people from dad's work, people from mom's work, Lori's friends, Lynn's friends, Lucy's friends, people, people, people. His felt a rush of anxiety and closed his eyes until it passed.

In the front of the building, three coffins lay side-by-side amidst a virtual field of flowers. The smell was cloying, and Lincoln choked. He didn't want to do this. He wanted to get up and run, but Luna pushed him forward, irrevocably forward.

The Louds settled in the front row. Lincoln fought to control his breathing, and Luna took his arm. He looked into her eyes, and she flashed a wan smile.

"Hey."

Lincoln turned to see Ronnie Anne standing sheepishly next to him, her head bowed.

"Hey," he said.

"I'm really sorry," she said.

"Thank you. How's Bobby?"

She shook her head. "He's really messed up. He...he really loved Lori."

Lincoln nodded, tears coming to his eyes. "She loved him too."

Ronnie Anne squeezed his shoulder. "If there's anything you need, let me know, okay?"

He nodded. "Thank you."

She lingered for a moment, then went back to her family. Clyde was next. "I'm sorry, man."

"Are you okay?" Lincoln asked.

Clyde nodded. "I don't have a right to grieve."

"Yes you do."

"I don't feel like it," Clyde mumbled. Like Ronnie Anne, he squeezed his shoulder. "I love you, man."

"I love you too, bro."

Clyde left, and organ music heralded the start of the funeral. Lincoln's heart began to pound, and he gripped Luna's arm tighter. A priest came down the middle isle, moving with reverent slowness. He mounted the pulpit, and the music cut out, lingering in the vaulted eaves.

"We are gathered here today to celebrate the lives of Lynn Loud, Lori Loud, and Lola Loud, who have returned to their home with God, our Father."

It was at that moment, as his clear, even voice rolled out over the congregation, that it all hit Lincoln Loud. Grief, true, soul shattering grief, overtook him. He covered his face with his hand and started to sob. Luna rubbed his back and neck, and he cried even harder. He knew that his father, Lori, and Lola were dead, but it never sank in. It never really reached into his heart. Luna was right. He must have been in shock. Now the ugly truth was laid so bare that even he could see it. They were gone. They were never coming back. All he had now of them were memories, and those memories would one day fade.

"Lynn, Lori, and Lola were dedicated to their much loved family and to helping those in need..."

Lincoln bent nearly in half, the power of his sobs shaking his body. Luna ran her fingers through his hair, and when he looked up at her, she was crying too. Next to her, Leni hid her face behind her hands and trembled. Lisa stared dazedly ahead, and Lana bit down on her bottom lip, trying to hold back her tears. Lynn raked her fingers through her hair and fidgeted. Unshed tears stood in her eyes.

Seeing his family suffering made him suffer, and he started to cry all over again.

"No one knows why God allows these tragedies to happen, but we can rest assured that He has a plan, and that He will gather His children to Him at the hour of their death."

Communion was passed out after the homily. Luna got up and went without Lincoln when he waved her on. He didn't want to go up there. He didn't want the blood and body of Christ. He wanted his father and his sisters back.

"Now," the priest said later (five minutes or five hours, Lincoln didn't know), "let us go in peace to live out the word of God."

* * *

After the short graveside service, the Loud family returned home. The McBrides, Santiagos, and many, many Loud relatives eventually trickled in, many of them bearing covered dishes. Rita had not been looking forward to the funeral, but she had downright _dreaded_ the wake: The last thing she wanted to do after burying her husband and two of her daughters was to face a house full of people.

None of the children seemed particularly interested in the proceedings either. Leni, Lynn, and Lana went immediately up to their rooms. Lincoln sat dejectedly in his wheelchair, Luna hovered over her brother, Lucy sat alone on the edge of the couch, and Lisa sat in the armchair, pinching the bridge of her nose. Lilly toddled happily around, enjoying all of the extra attention, and Rita's heart broke anew when she realized Lily would never know her father.

"How're you holding up?" Howard McBride asked, taking her hand. They were standing in the kitchen.

"Not well," she said, "none of us are." She blinked back tears. "It's so hard on the kids." She broke down, but regained control. "Lisa's so scared of going in the car she worries herself sick. Lana's talking to herself and pretending it's Lola, Leni's having nightmares...I'm so worried about them, Howard."

A look of concern crossed Howard's face, and he patted her arm. "They're hurting. Losing people you love is the most difficult thing in the world, especially when you're as close as your family is. Have you considered counselling? I'm sure you could all use someone to talk to."

"I have thought of it," Rita admitted, "I just don't want to force the kids into it so soon. Lynn and I have always tried to let the kids work through their issues on their own."

"That's good," Howard said, "but there are some issues you just _can't_ work through on your own. God knows I've had them. Clyde sees a therapist named Dr. Lopez. She's a _miracle_ worker. I can give you her number if you like."

Rita nodded. "Thank you."

In the living room, Lincoln looked up at his sister. She smiled weakly. He took her hand and held it. "Thank you," he said.

"For what?"

"For being here," he said. "I don't think I could have made it without you."

"I'll always be here for you, Lincoln. I love you."

He kissed her hand and held it to his face. "I love you too, Luna."

In her room, Lynn sat with her knees drawn up to her chest and her pillow in her lap. She held it together at the funeral. She held it together at the cemetery, when the coffins were lowered into eternity. She held it together on the ride home.

She wasn't holding it together now.

Alone and unseen, she cried so hard she felt like her soul was coming out. Next door, Lana sat in front of the mirror; she was wearing pink.

"I can never be you," she told her reflection.

She drew a heavy breath and looked away. She missed her sister so bad she ached. Getting up, she went to Lola's bed, curled up, and cried herself to sleep.

The house emptied slowly. By five, quiet reigned. Mom ordered pizza and they ate in the kitchen, the three empty chairs a constant reminder that they were a broken family. No one ate very much; half a pie went into the fridge, something that had never happened before.

Bedtime came early. They were all physically and emotionally drained; Rita was the last to trudge up the stairs, leaving Luna and Lincoln in the living room. She wanted to see Luan, but by the time all of the guests had left, she was too exhausted to keep her head up. Tomorrow, she thought, she would spend the entire day with her daughter.

* * *

In the darkness, Lincoln and Luna clung to each other. "I guess this is it," Lincoln said at one point.

"What do you mean?"

"The first day of our new lives."

"Yeah," she sighed. "It's scary, isn't it?"

He nodded. "But I have you. I can get through anything."

She smiled, and touched his face. He rubbed her arm. Suddenly, they were kissing, their tongues dancing with desperate fervency. His hand fell onto her hip, and she grazed her fingertips along his cheek.

 _He's your brother!_ a voice cried in her mind, but she ignored it; instead of pulling away, she drew closer to him, running her hands over his face and hair, trailing down his sides and chest. His hand slipped under her shirt, and the warmth of it against her naked flesh sent shivers down her spine. When he touched her breast, she moaned into his mouth. Somehow she was on top of him, bending down to taste his mouth. In a daze of heady bliss, she lost herself entirely to her brother, not realizing what was happening until he was entering her, not caring, not thinking, only feeling the beat of his heart, the living heat of his skin, the feeling of his hands squeezing her breasts. For a time, the world fell away, and the only thing that mattered was them. They were safe, cocooned in love and pleasure, far beyond the reach of death and pain.

When it was over, she rolled off of him and lay back, her heart slamming in her chest. She stared with wide eyes at the ceiling, her mind racing. Next to her, Lincoln was frozen, his pants pulled down just enough to expose his withering erection. He, too, stared up.

Luna swallowed. "What did we just do?"

"I don't know," Lincoln said. "I don't know."

* * *

In a room in the Royal Woods General intensive care unit, amidst the constant beep-beep-beep of a heart monitor, Luan Loud opened her eyes...


	10. Mixed Emotions

Long after Lincoln fell asleep, Luna lie awake in the dark.

A part of her burned with shame. She had sex with her brother. Sex. With her brother. Not even sex. It was basically rape. She was the older of the two, and the more responsible. Though it was a mutual and spontaneous explosion of passion, she should have stopped it. She should have pulled away and stuffed her emotions down. She should have known better.

How did this happen?

Another part was not ashamed; she wanted to roll over, put her arms around him, and never let go.

Those two competing factions of her heart waged war through the night. At times she wanted to get up and go back to her room, where she could close her door against what she had done and try to forget. At other times, she wanted to stay with here with Lincoln, listen to his breathing, feel his heartbeat, relish his warmth. Toward dawn, she turned and watched him sleep, her heart filling with a mixture of emotions. She had always been close to Lincoln, closer, she thought, than any of the others. He was her only brother. He meant the world to her. The torment in her heart saddened her, and she fought back tears.

It was wrong. But it didn't feel that way. It felt right. Natural. She thought back to their lovemaking earlier, and warmth rose in her chest.

Finally, she reached out and touched his face. He started, took a deep breath, and turned to her, his eyes heavy with sleep.

"Lincoln..." she said, not sure how to continue. He was half-asleep still. She should wait until morning, but she didn't want to. "Do you regret what we did?"

"No," he said. "Do you?"

She thought for a long time before she replied. "No," she said. "I love you."

"I love you too," he said, and took her hand; her heart leapt and she felt herself blushing. She leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. His kissed her back, his tongue slipping into her mouth. Once more, they lost themselves to each other, and as dawn colored the eastern sky, they made love again, slower this time, more tender. When it was over, Lincoln cradled her in his arms, and she was finally able to drift into a warm, peaceful sleep.

* * *

Rita Loud had been awake for nearly an hour. The first light of the new day fell softly into the room, revealing the humped forms of four of her children: Leni, Lana, Lisa, and Lucy. It was the sound of Leni whimpering in her sleep that woke her. Still groggy, Rita put her arm around the girl and whispered softly into her ear, hoping that her words would penetrate the nightmare and calm her. It seemed to have worked, for she stopped, and settled, or so Rita thought, into a deeper sleep. A hopefully _dreamless_ sleep.

Lucy was the last to come to her in the night. Rita was drifting on the verge of sleep when the door opened; she felt the bed dip as she climbed in. "Who is it?" she asked.

"Just me," Lucy said.

"Hey, baby, bad dream?"

"I think so," she said, "at least I hope it was a dream."

For some reason, thought last eight words disturbed her. She thought of Lana sitting along in her room, wearing her sister's clothes and looking into the mirror. Was it healthy? She honestly didn't know. She'd never had to deal with the grief of a child. Kids, she knew all too well, had funny thoughts. She remembered when she herself was a child; she wholeheartedly believed that everyone on the face of the earth had the same thing for dinner every night. If her family was having spaghetti, _everyone_ was having spaghetti. How would that transfer to bereavement? What might Lana be thinking? And Lucy...she was older, but not by much. What kind of dreams was she having that she couldn't tell them apart from reality?

She sighed. Howard McBride was right. They needed to see someone. Her children were suffering so much, and while she recognized it, she had been too caught up in her own pain to see just how _badly_ they were hurting. She resolved to call Howard later on and get Dr. Lopez's number. She would make an appointment for all of them, herself included. Then maybe they could begin to heal.

She was just starting to consider getting up for a shower when the phone on the nightstand rang, startling her so badly that she cried out. Leni and Lucy both stirred. Lana muttered and rolled onto her other side. Lisa made no sound and no movement.

Heart pounding, Rita took a deep breath and picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Mrs. Loud?"

"Yes?"

"This is Dr. Dharma. Luan's awake."

For a moment the words failed to register. Then, with a body wide shock, they did, and she sat up so quickly that she nearly dragged the phone off the nightstand. "She is?"

"She's been in and out of consciousness all night," Dharma explained, "but she's been up and lucid for the past hour and a half."

Rita didn't realize she was crying until she spoke, "How is she?"

"I'd rather you come see for yourself," Dharma said.

"Yes, I'll be there right away."

She hung up the phone and got out of bed.

"What is it, mom?" Leni muttered.

"It's Luan," she said, hurriedly dressing, "she's awake."

"She is?" Lucy asked hopefully, sitting up.

"How is she?" Leni asked.

"I don't know," Rita said, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling her shoes on. "I'm going there right now."

She picked up the phone and dialed the McBrides' number, hating to wake them. Harold answered on the third ring with a groggy, "Hello?"

"Harold, it's Rita Loud, I'm so sorry to disturb you, but Luan's awake and..."

"Give me ten minutes," Harold said.

"Thank you," she said earnestly, and hung up. She stood, went to her dresser, and grabbed her purse. She checked to make sure she had everything she needed, panicking when she couldn't find her car keys, then remembering that she'd put them in her nightstand because there was no longer a car. She didn't that a lot recently. Just the other night, while she was making dinner, she needed to pee, and started to call out to her husband to watch the food before remembering he was gone. The pain that caused was almost as bad as the pain of his actual death.

 _He keeps dying over and over again,_ she thought. She hadn't done it with Lori and Lola yet, and she hoped to God she never did.

"Can we come?" Leni asked.

"I wanna come," Lana said. Her back was still to them.

"Me too," Lucy said.

"No, guys, you have to stay here. There's not enough room in Mr. McBride's car. And Leni, I need you to be in charge while I'm gone." She didn't tell them that there was a possibility that Luan would be severely brain damaged. If that was the case, she wanted to break the news gently; she couldn't stand the thought of them walking into the ICU full of hope only to see their sister drooling and shaking like a Parkinson's sufferer.

"Okay," Leni said. She was not used to being the oldest and the one in charge, but she was trying her best to fill her sister's role, and Rita loved her for it. "I love you guys," she said, kissing each one on the forehead, even Lisa, who was still asleep. "I'll be back as soon as I can."

In the living room, she quietly passed the foldout couch where Lincoln and Luna slept arm-in-arm (they were so adorable, and it was so good of Luna to be there for her brother; Lincoln was a sensitive boy, and it was him that Rita had worried about the most). In the kitchen, she made herself a breakfast shake and drank it as quickly as she could, her phone in her hand. After five minutes, Harold McBride texted her: I'm here.

Putting her glass in the sink, she went through the living room again. By the couch, her foot got caught in something, and she tripped, catching herself before she fell. She looked down and saw a pair of purple underwear with pink polka dots. They must be Luna's, she thought, kicking them aside. Someone could break their neck.

Outside, her near fall forgotten, Rita locked the door and crossed to the driveway, where Harold waited. "I'm so sorry about this," Rita said, getting in.

"I said to ask if you needed anything," Harold replied, backing into the street, "and this is a pretty big something. How is she?"

"He wouldn't say," Rita said, and sighed. "Which worries me. Wouldn't they tell you good news over the phone?"

"Probably not," Harold replied after a second. "Doctors do prefer to give major news – of any kind – face-to-face."

Rita nodded. "Right. I'm just so worried, Harold. What if she's bad off?"

"I suppose you'll find a way to manage," Harold mused. "And so will the kids. None of you would feel differently about Luan if she was handicapped, would you?"

"God, no!" Rita said, shocked. "We'd love her the same as we always have."

"That's all that matters," Harold said. They were on the interstate now. Rita found the spot of the accident by the cluster of skid marks on the pavement. This was where her life changed forever: A simple, unassuming patch of highway a half mile from an overpass.

At the hospital, Rita got out of the car even before Harold had parked. She rushed through the lobby and climbed the stairs, too impatient to even consider waiting for the elevator. By the time she reached the ICU, she was red and out of breath, but she did not slow her pace, and she did not stop at the nurses' station to check in. When she entered Luan's room, her daughter was staring forward. She turned, and Rita was certain she saw a flicker of something in her eyes.

"Luan, baby," she said, tears welling. She held out her arms and hugged her daughter. "How are you feeling? Can you understand me?"

Luan was limp, her face blank. Oh, God, she's a vegetable, Rita thought.

"Do you know where I've been?" Luan asked at length, her voice dull and toneless.

"No, baby," Rita said, blinking back tears, "where have you been?"

Luan leaned close. _"To Coma,"_ she whispered and smiled. "Get it?"

For a moment, Rita was stunned. Then she laughed and cried all at once.

* * *

Lincoln came slowly awake in the mid-morning light. His back and butt were sore. Because of his cast, he couldn't sleep on his side, and lying on his back, and always being on his butt, was really starting to hurt. Luna's head was resting against his chest, and that made the pain and stiffness not matter as much.

For a long time, he lay, looking up at the ceiling, his arm around his sister. Outside, birds sang airy morning songs. Upstairs, he heard movement. A door closed. The shower turned on. Lincoln rubbed Luna's arm, and she moved.

"You gonna wake up?" he asked.

She made a long, low _mmmmmm_ sound and snuggled closer to him. His kissed the top of her head. "I guess that's a no."

"I don't want to get up," she said. "I'm happy where I'm at."

Lincoln smiled and squeezed her. "Me too, but we can't stay in bed forever."

"Says who?"

"My stomach. I'm kind of hungry."

"Alright," Luna acquiesced and looked up at him. "What do you want?"

"Hm. I don't know. Pizza?"

Luna laughed. "That's not a breakfast food."

"Make me an egg to go with it and we'll call it brunch."

She kissed him. "You're a doofus, but okay."

She slipped out from under the covers, naked from the waist down. She bent, pulled on her underwear, and went into the kitchen. A few minutes later, Lincoln heard the sizzle of an egg on a hot pan. The smell soon filled the living room.

She was bringing him his plate (and one for herself) when someone hurried down the stairs. "Hey, you guys," it was Leni. "Luan's awake."

Lincoln whipped his head around. "She is?"

"Yeah," Leni said breathlessly. "Mom went to the hospital a little while ago."

"Why didn't you wake us up?" Luna asked, sitting down and handing Lincoln his plate.

"I can't think of _everything_ ," Leni shot back.

"How is she?" Lincoln asked.

"I don't know. They didn't say."

Lincoln and Luna looked at each other.

"Moment of truth, bro," she said.

He nodded, anxiety rising in his stomach. He took her hand and held it. Today...today they would know whether their sister would be her old self or not.

* * *

"Where's dad?" Luan asked.

They had been sitting alone together for close to half an hour, Rita holding her daughter's hand and touching her face, as if to confirm to herself that Luan was indeed back. Before that, Dr. Dharma spent an hour talking to Luan and checking her reflexes, pupil dilation, and cognitive memory. As far as they could tell, her long term memory was intact up until the day before the accident. After that, she remembered nothing.

Presently, Rita stiffened at the question. She knew it was coming, knew that at some point she would have to tell her, and she had been dreading it. She squeezed Luan's hand and looked at her with much the same expression she had given Luna. Luna inferred from it that someone had died. Luan did not.

"What's wrong?"

Rita sighed and squeezed her daughter's hand even tighter. "Honey...your father died."

Luan flinched, her eyes widening.

"So did Lori and Lola."

The slack expression of shock on Luan's face twisted like a knife in Rita's heart. For a moment Luan did not move, did not speak, then she slowly shook her head. "No," she whispered, "no." She shuddered, then started to weep, bringing her hands to her face. Rita slid into the bed and took her in her arms. Luan cried into her chest, and Rita stroked her hair. "I know," Rita said, "I'm so sorry. So, so, so sorry."

It was a long time before Luan's sobs tapered off. "How's everyone else?"

"They're okay," Rita said. "Your brother broke his leg and he's using a wheelchair for now. Lana broke her nose. Everyone else only had cuts and scrapes. We were so worried about you." She hugged Luan tighter. She hadn't cried during her daughter's storm, but she did now. "I'm so happy to have you back."

At home, in the backyard, Lynn scooped up and bat and rested it against her shoulder. She started toward the park, where there were sure to be some girls (or boys) willing to scrape up a game, but as she walked, the idea of baseball started to turn her stomach. She attempted to power through, but the time she reached Congress Avenue, she was so mentally and emotionally exhausted that even the thought of turning around and walking back home drained her. That's what she did however, anger rising in her chest as she walked. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that her dad and sisters were dead, it wasn't fair that the things she loved should turn her off, it wasn't fair that this was happening to her and her family.

When she stormed into the backyard, she was seething with rage. She went to the old oak tree overhanging the fence, hefted the bat, and swung it so hard that splinters of bark shattered and rained to the ground. Jarring vibrations shot up her arms, but she didn't care: Baring her teeth, she did it again, and again, each impact echoing like a gunshot. The world was blurry now. She swung again, and missed, falling to the ground where she wept. When hands touched her shoulder, she jumped. It was Lucy. Lynn looked away and closed her eyes, willing the tears to stop. Without a word, Lucy hugged her, and Lynn gave into the tempest.

"I love you," Lucy said when the tears slowed.

"I love you too," Lynn hitched, and hugged her sister back.

Upstairs, Lana sat on her bed, looking at the wall. She couldn't bring herself to turn around and face Lola's half. She couldn't even bring herself to sit in front of the mirror, because every time she saw her face, or her sister's, she felt a hot rush of guilt.

 _It's your fault...your fault...your fault..._

She might as well have held a gun against her father and sister's heads and pulled the trigger.

Sighing, all out of tears, she got up and went to leave the room, but she caught sight of her reflection and froze. She was wearing her overalls and baseball cap. Her face was pale and sunken.

 _Your fault_.

Anger flashed in her. She went to Lola's trophy case, picked up a heavy plaque, and hurled it at the mirror: It exploded into a million pieces. She picked up another and then another, throwing three, five, a dozen. She was huffing when she was done, her shoulders rising and falling.

 _Your fault_.

She went to the mirror and knelt down, picking up a long, jagged shard. She studied her face in it for a long moment, then held it to her wrist...


	11. Suicide Solution

Leni was dozing in her mother's bed when she heard the shattering of glass: She sat up with a gasp, her heart pounding in her chest. In the few moments between sleep and consciousness, she thought of the vanity mirror near her bedroom window. It must have fallen over. She pictured Lori climbing through the window and upsetting it, her confirmation dress caked with mud and her white the color of milk. "I'm back, sis...", and she nearly screamed. The sound came again, and she recognized that it was emanating not from her room but from somewhere down the hall.

Getting out of bed, she went to the door and peeked into the hallway. Another loud crash sounded. It sounded like it was coming from Lana and Lola's room. She went into the hall and walked toward the closed door, her chest inexplicably tight and her steps painfully slow. She paused and listened, hearing nothing. She pressed her ear to the door. Still nothing.

She knocked. "Hello?"

She waited for a moment. No one replied, and suddenly, she felt dread forming in her stomach. She turned the knob and threw the door open. When she saw Lana kneeling in a field of broken glass, a wicked shard pressed to her bleeding wrist, Leni screamed.

* * *

Luna was coming up the stairs to investigate the noise when she heard Leni's agonized screaming. Heart in throat, she took the rest of the steps two at a time, and found her older sister in Lana's room, one arm around the little girl's neck, the other holding Lana's arm out. Lana, her teeth bared in determination, fought. "I deserve to die!" she screamed. "It's my fault!"

Coming awake, Luna went into the room and grabbed Lana's wrist, squeezing. With a yelp, she dropped the glass shard; droplets of blood covered broken bits of the mirror.

"Call mom!" Leni yelled. She wrapped her other arm around Lana's stomach; the younger girl fought like a wild animal. "Please stop!" Leni sobbed, "please!"

The abject note in her sister's voice reached her; Lana stopped and sank into Leni's arms. She broke down and wept.

With trembling hands, Luna took out her phone and went into the hall, passing Lisa, who stood in the doorway with wide eyes.

Mom answered on the third ring. "Hey, what's up?"

"Mom," Luna said, beginning to cry herself, "Lana just tried to kill herself..."

* * *

Rita Loud was wracked with worry the entire way home. In the driver seat, Harold McBride gripped the wheel tightly; he wove in and out of traffic like a madman, and Rita would have told him to slow down under other circumstances. She stayed on the line with Luna the whole time: She and Leni were in the bathroom tending to Lana's cut. "It's not very deep," Luna said, "just a scratch, really. If Leni hadn't gone in there..."

Rita put her hand to her forehead and sighed. She didn't know what to say, or what to think. Her precious little girl tried to cut her wrists open with a piece of glass, and Rita herself was to blame. She _knew_ how badly the kids were hurting. She should have done something different. Exactly _what_ she didn't know, but she was certain it was somehow her fault.

When Harold pulled to the curb in front of the Loud house, Rita thanked him. "Please text me Dr. Lopez's number when you get a chance."

"Absolutely," Harold said. "Give the girls hugs for me."

She nodded, shut the door, and rushed inside. She found Lana sitting on the closed commode, staring blankly at the floor. Leni was kneeling next to her, holding her arm and cleaning her wrist with alcohol. Luna rummaged through the medicine cabinet for Band-Aids. When she drew close to the door, Lana looked up, and horror flickered through her eyes. She looked like a girl who saw punishment swiftly approaching. That expression hurt Rita, and she flew into the bathroom and took her daughter in her arms, tears running down her cheeks. "Lana, honey," she cooed, smothering her forehead with kisses.

"I'm sorry, mom," Lana said lowly. "I'm sorry I killed dad, Lola, and Lori."

Rita flinched and pulled away from her daughter. "What?"

"It's my fault," Lana said, "if me and Lola weren't arguing..."

"Don't say that," Rita said, her tone harsher than she'd intended. "Honey, it was an accident. It wasn't your fault." She hugged Lana again, tighter this time. The little girl broke down and cried into her mother's shoulder, her body quivering. Leni laid her hand on Lana's back, and Luna put hers on her shoulder.

In the hall, Lisa withdrew into her room and shut the door. Lilly was playing happily in her crib, obvious to the turmoil around her. Lisa crossed to her desk, sat down in her chair, and held her face in her hands. She was dozing when the twinkling of breaking glass filled the house. She started, sitting up and rubbing her eyes. For a moment she thought her lab had exploded, but when the noises continued from the other side of the room, she got up and went out into the hall. When she came to Lana's door and saw her struggling with Leni, blood splattering the floor, her stomach clenched and she thought she would puke. It wasn't the blood itself that bothered her, it was her sister, fighting to stab herself with the shard. When she screamed, "I deserve to die! It's my fault!", Lisa felt such a rush of guilt that she sagged against the doorframe. She remembered all the times she'd silently blamed Lana for the accident, remembered thinking just yesterday that it would serve her right to have a mental breakdown. She suddenly regretted every one of those thoughts with an intensity that made her nearly double over in pain.

She began to cry now, so disgusted with herself that she was sick. When everything calmed down, she decided, she would go out there, find Lana, and hug her so tight her eyes would pop out.

Rita took Lana into the kitchen and made her a glass of chocolate milk. She watched, leaning against the counter, as she drank it. Her eyes were red-rimmed and haunted. For some reason, she reminded Rita of a machine that had burned out. "Are you hungry?" Rita asked anxiously.

Lana shook her head. "Not really." She stared down at her hands. Then, animation touched her face: "How's Luan?"

Rita nodded. "She's good. She woke up with a pun."

"Really?" Lana asked hopefully.

"She did. She's the same old Luan."

"That's great! Can we tell everyone else?"

"Sure," Rita said, putting out her arm. Lana jumped off the chair and came to her. In the living room, Lincoln was sitting by the window in his wheelchair, where he had been since before Lana cut herself. He was thinking that it was a beautiful day and considering asking Luna if she wanted to go outside and enjoy it, but now some of his joy had gone, and he didn't care about the sunshine.

"Girls!" mom called up the stairs. "Can you come here for a minute?"

Mom and Lana moved over to the couch and sat. "How's your leg?" mom asked.

"Alright," Lincoln said. Luna brought him his medication shortly before...the commotion, and he took it gratefully. He was beginning to like taking his medication, because for a little while afterward, things seemed a little brighter, a little a little warmer and more dreamlike. "It's starting to itch, though."

"It'll do that," mom said.

Leni, Luna, and Lisa came down the stairs, Leni holding Lilly.

"Where're Lynn and Lucy?" mom asked.

"Lynn went to the park," Leni said, "and Lucy..." she bowed her head. "I guess I don't know where Lucy is."

Rita felt a rush of anxiety at this. It wasn't uncommon for Lucy to go off and do her own thing (it was uncommon for her not to, actually), but after what happened with Lana...

"Stay here," Rita said, really beginning to worry. She got up went into the kitchen, and started for the basement door; sometimes Lucy like to sit down there in the dark. It was only then that she caught a flicker of movement from her periphery. She turned her head and looked through the back door. Lucy was standing in the backyard, a catcher's mitt on her right hand. She took a step back, reached up, and caught a ball. Rita when to the door and opened it.

"Nice catch!" Lynn said. Lucy threw the ball, and Lynn grabbed it from the air. "Nice throw, too. You could use a little more force behind it, though."

"Alright," Lucy said, "this ia actually kind of fun."

"Girls?"

They both looked at her. "Hey, mom!" Lynn said.

"Hey," Lucy said.

"Could you come in here? I need to talk to you."

They both looked at each other, worry crossing their faces.

"It's _good_ news," Rita said, and smiled.

Inside, she sat next to Lana and waited for Lynn and Lucy to take a spot: Lucy sat in the armchair, while Lynn perched on its arm.

"I'm sure you know Luan's awake," she said.

Their faces were all expectant.

"When she woke up, she made a joke."

A look of relief swept the room.

"So, she's, like, her old self?" Leni asked.

"She's exactly her old self."

Leni sighed. "Thank God."

"I left in a hurry, so I didn't get a chance to talk to the doctor, but she's going to be in the hospital for a little while longer. Does anybody want to go see her?"

"I do!" Lana said.

"Me!" Lynn raised her hand.

"Me too," Lincoln said.

"You know it," Luna grinned.

"Despite my fear of motor vehicles, I want to go as well," Lisa said.

"Good," Rita said. Since she had everyone together, she went on. "I'm also going to be making an appointment with a therapist. I think we could all use someone to talk to. And that includes me."

"A therapist?" Lana asked. "I'm sorry I tried to kill myself, but..."

"You did _what?_ " Lynn asked, sitting up.

"You tried to kill yourself?" Lucy asked.

Rita held up a hand. "I was going to do it even before what happened this morning." She sighed. "I know this has been really hard on you guys. It's been hard on me too. There's nothing wrong with talking to a professional. Sometimes, we have issues we can't work through on our own and we need help. It happens to everybody."

No one spoke.

"The McBrides still have the van they rented. I'm going to walk over and get it, then we can go. I should be back in half an hour. Get ready to leave when I come home, okay?"

Everyone mumbled or nodded.

"Alright," Rita said, getting up. Before she left, she took Leni and Luna aside. "Keep an eye on Lana," she said lowly. "In fact, I don't want her going anywhere without you guys or Lynn or Lucy watching her. Okay?"

Leni and Luna both nodded.

Lana started up the stairs, and Leni followed. "I'll be back soon," Rita said.

In the upstairs hall, Lisa waited for her slightly-older sister, her hands behind her back. When Lana appeared, Leni right behind (an obvious suicide watch), Lisa cleared her throat. "Lana?"

"Yeah?" Lana asked.

"I..." Lisa didn't know how to start; she wasn't very good at being emotional. "I know you blame yourself, but please don't. It was an accident." Without warning, surprising even herself, Lisa hugged her. "I love you."

"I love you too," Lana said, hugging her back.

In the living room, Luna sat stiffly on Lincoln's good knee, afraid of hitting his leg and hurting him. He rubbed her back. "What's on your mind?" he asked. "You look like it's a lot."

Luna sighed. "It _is_ a lot." She looked at her brother, then threw her arms around his neck. "Our family's falling apart."

Lincoln hugged her back, grazing his fingers along the back of her neck. "It's not that bad," he said.

"Lana tried to commit suicide," she said. "It _is_ that bad."

"From what I know about grief, and I've been reading up on the subject, that's the only halfway abnormal thing that's happened. I've seen sadness, anger, nightmares, and other things, but it's natural." He pressed his cheek against hers. "We lost our father and two of our sisters, after all, and we almost lost a third. If we _weren't_ cracking up a little, we'd have a problem."

"I'm just so worried about everyone. I miss the way things used to be."

"I know. I do too. But things will never go back to that, Luna. We have to adapt."

"I know," she said. "It's just so hard."

* * *

Luan Loud was reading the comics section of _The Royal Woods Gazette_ when her mother spoke to her. "Luan, honey."

Luan looked up, and saw her mother surrounded by her siblings. Lincoln was in a wheelchair, his damaged leg propped up. For some reason she found the image amusing, and had to hold back a giggle. There was Luna, Lynn, Lucy, Lana, Lisa, Lilly, Leni...but where were...?

Oh.

She smiled nevertheless. "Hi, guys!"

As one writhing, living mass, they fell upon her, and she laughed as they mobbed her.

"Move!" Lana shouted, trying to get between Lucy and Lynn, "I wanna hug her!"

"I was first," Lisa pointed out.

"I'm stronger than the rest of you," Lynn laughed, "so I go first."

"Guys, guys, guys," Luan said. "There's enough of me to go around. Sheesh. You act like I was in a coma or something."

After each of her siblings had hugged her (owing to the bulk of his wheelchair, Lincoln could only squeeze her hand), they gathered around the bed. Luan hadn't realized how much she missed them until now; it felt good to have them here.

"What was it like being in a coma?" Lynn asked.

Luan shrugged. "Like being asleep, I guess. I don't remember much."

"How does your head feel?" Lisa asked.

"It hurts," Luan admitted. Though she wouldn't say, it hurt a lot. She had had a constant headache from the moment she first opened her eyes the night before. The light stung her eyes, and too many loud noises (in this case, Loud noises) made it worse. She didn't mind, though. It was a small price to pay to have her family.

"When are you coming home?" Lana asked.

"I don't know. Soon, I hope."

And soon, Luan decided when her family finally left two hours later, couldn't come soon enough.


	12. Dr Feelgood

It was almost 4 in the afternoon before Rita copied down Dr. Lopez's number and called her. For a long time she sat on her bed, hesitating, worried that Lana's suicide attempt would lead the doctor to suggest committal to the proverbial "somewhere." The idea of her daughter being sent to an institution or a psych ward, even for a few days of observation, pained her. A small voice in her head told her that it might be for the best, but right now, with the wounds of Lynn, Lori, and Lola's deaths still fresh, she couldn't bear not to have her family with her, where she could see, touch, and kiss them: Not having Luan home was bad enough. When they left the hospital that afternoon, Rita felt such an ache in her chest that she almost thought it would kill her.

Was she doing the right thing? Did her kids really _need_ therapy? Lana, yes; she blamed herself for the accident. But the others...the funeral was yesterday. You can't expect children to overcome their grief in a twinkling of an eye. They needed time. Time heals all wounds, after all.

Then she thought of poor Lisa, who was so afraid of cars that she would sweat and shake and squeeze her eyes closed whenever she got into one. Then there was Leni and her nightmares. She wouldn't talk about them, but Rita knew they must be be terrifying, the way she thrashed and muttered in her sleep.

Her family was hurting and they needed help, she decided. Taking a deep breath, she picked up the bedside phone and dialed the number Harold texted. She expected to speak to a secretary, and was surprised when a woman answered with, "Dr. Lopez speaking."

Rita swallowed. "Yes, hi, my name is Rita Loud. My friend Harold McBride gave me your number..."

"Ah, Clyde's father, yes."

"Yes. Clyde and my son are friends. I...I recently lost my husband and two of my daughters, and the rest of my children, and me too...it's been really hard on us, and I was wondering if I could make an appointment for us to see you."

"How many children?"

Rita started to say eleven, but corrected herself, "nine. My daughter Luan is in the hospital, so, eight."

"Plus yourself, correct?"

"Yes."

Papers shuffled. "Well, given that there are so many of you, I won't be able to see everyone at once, but I can fit you all in throughout the week. I happen to have two back-to-back openings tomorrow. Which of your children, in your opinion, should I see first?"

"Lana, my six-year-old," Rita said at once, then thought for a moment. _Leni or Lisa?_ Which child gets top priority? "And Lisa, my four-year-old."

"Alright," Dr. Lopez said, and was quiet for a minute. "Can you be here at noon tomorrow?"

"Absolutely."

"Alright. I will see you then."

"Thank you," Rita said, and hung up.

For a long time she sat on the bed, sick with worry. _I hope she's as good as Howard said_.

* * *

Lana was starting to get irritated: Everywhere she went, Leni, Luna, or Lynn was right there. If she stopped too suddenly, they'd fly up her butt and out her mouth. Since coming back from the hospital, she'd been sitting on the couch with Luna and watching cartoons. When she got up to go pee, Luna came with her. At first it seemed innocent, like Luna needed to get something from her room and was doing now since Lana was getting up, but when she came out of the bathroom, her older sister was standing in the hall, leaning against the wall and looking around as if she'd never seen such beautiful fixtures. "Hey, sis," she said.

"Hi," Lana said, guardedly. Kind of weird.

Then, downstairs, when she went to get a juice box out of the fridge, Leni popped up out of nowhere and started rambling about skirts and tops and shoes. Back in the living room, Lana sat down and drank her juice, suddenly feeling very paranoid. It made sense that they were watching her. After all, she _did_ try to kill herself that morning. They didn't have to worry about her doing it again, though. Seeing the terror in their eyes – especially in her mother's eyes – made her feel so terrible that she decided she would rather suffer than make those she loved suffer. At least for now; she couldn't imagine living with the tight, gnawing pain in her chest for the rest of her life. That was a concern for another day, though. For right now, she didn't mind being alive; Luan being awake and okay alone made it a little better.

She got up to go throw the empty juice box into the trash, and, go figure, here comes Leni. An idea struck Lana then, and for the first time in days, she really, truly smiled. "Hey, Leni," she said, "I was just going to go outside and play."

"Oh, totes, me too!"

"Great."

In the backyard, Lana took out the hose and turned it on while Leni chattered about the outdoors and how nice it was and blah blah blah. "This was mine and Lola's favorite game," Lana said, her voice momentarily hitching on her sister's name. "Do you want to play it with me?"

"Of course," Leni said.

"Alright."

Lana watered a dry patch of dirt until it was nice and muddy, then dropped to her knees and whipped it like a chef would whip meringue. The cold mud felt good as it squished through her fingers. She glanced over her shoulder, saw Leni still prattling, her eyes closed and her mouth running. She turned back to the mud, got a nice, gloopy handful, then, as she spun, cried, "Mud fight!"

Before Leni could register what was happening, a giant dollop of mud splattered her in the face, some of it getting in her mouth. She stumbled back and fell over a toy lawnmower, going down hard on her butt. Lana slapped her knee and screamed laughter. Leni wiped the mud from her eyes and fixed her little sister with a deadly glare. Okay. Let's play.

Running her hand across her face, she collected as much of the mud as she could and threw it back. It struck Lana's face, surprising her. She took her own step back, her shoes getting caught in the mud and ripping away from her feet as she fell. For a shocked minute she sat in the middle of the mud patch, her feet bare, and a wide-eyed expression on her face. Then she laughed, and Leni laughed too.

"Good one," Lana said. "I didn't think you had it in you."

"You'd be surprised," Leni said, getting up. "I, like, used to be a tomboy too."

"Really?" Lana asked. " _You_?"

"Yep." Leni came over and held out her hand. "I loved playing in the mud."

"That's pretty cool," Lana said, taking her sister's hand. Leni drew her to her feet and turned her around so that she was facing away. "See that over there? I did that."

"What?" Lana asked, looking.

"This." She hooked her leg around Lana's and pushed. The younger girl cried out and went face down into the mud. Leni laughed hysterically as she pushed herself up and wiped her face.

"I guess I should have seen that coming," Lana said.

"You totes should have," Leni said.

Lana flung another handful of mud at Leni. It splattered her shirt. "You totes should have seen _that_ coming."

"Oh, it's _on_."

By the time they were done, they were both covered in mud. In fact, most of the backyard was covered in mud: Globs dried on the fence and the side of the house; a mass had even ended up on the outside of Leni's window, where it baked in the sun. Sitting side-by-side on the back step, the two sisters fought to catch their breaths.

"That was actually kind of fun," Leni said. "I guess I forgot how fun getting dirty is."

"Stick with me and you'll have a lot of fun."

"That sounds nice." As the sun set, Leni put her arm around her sister's shoulder and drew her close. The pain and guilt were still in Lana, but, overlaying that...she felt good.

* * *

After dinner, Lincoln sat in his wheelchair and stared at the TV. Something called _The Gong Show_ was on: A rock band was playing a song, the lead singer jerking and strutting around like a chicken in the midst of an epileptic seizure. Lincoln was parked on one end of the couch next to Luna. They held hands. Lincoln liked holding her hand, but for some reason, he felt jittery, restless. The room felt cold and gray.

"Luna?"

"Yeah?" she asked, turning to him.

"My leg hurts really bad," he lied, "can you get me another painkiller?"

"You just had one a couple hours ago," Luna said. "You shouldn't have another until bed."

"I know, but it hurts really bad." He put on his best puppy dog face, and watched as his sister's heart melted.

"Okay," she said. She kissed him on the cheek, got up, and climbed the stairs. A few minutes later she came back, went into the kitchen, and filled a glass of water. She brought him the glass and a pill. Thanking her, he took the pill then chased it with the water.

"Hey," Luna said, bending down, "would this help?"

She kissed him, and he kissed her back.

"That _does_ help," he grinned, his heart racing.

"Good," she smiled and sat down.

Shortly, the effects of the pill began to take hold. Things were brighter, warmer...

...and better.

* * *

After hanging up with Mrs. Loud, Marlita Lopez, a large, round-faced woman with light brown skin and long black hair, dialed Harold McBride's home phone and waited. He picked up on the fifth ring.

"McBride residence."

"Harold, it's Dr. Lopez."

"Oh, hello, Dr.," he said, his formal tone lightening. "How can I help you? Do you need to speak with Clyde?"

"No, actually," Dr. Lopez said, "I called for you."

"Oh," Harold said, "alright."

"I just got a call from a Rita Loud. She made an appointment for herself and her children. She said you gave her my number."

"Yes, I did," Harold said. "Her husband and two of her daughters were killed in a car crash. The one big one on the interstate."

Dr. Lopez nodded, recalling the apocalyptic scenes shown on the evening news. "Okay, I remember."

"It's terrible," Harold confided. "They're good people, Dr. Lopez, and extremely close. Losing three of them like this...it's hit them pretty hard. Just this morning her six-year-old tried to kill herself."

Dr. Lopez blinked. "Really?" she asked.

"Oh, yes. We were visiting her other daughter, Luan, in the ICU when her daughter Luna called to say that Lana – that's the six-year-old – tried to cut her wrists with a piece of glass. As I said, it's been very difficult on them."

"Alright. Thank you for referring them."

"Oh, no problem, doc."

After she hung up, Dr. Lopez sat back in her chair and tried to piece together a mental picture of the family's ordeal. There was an accident. Three were killed and at least one was hurt enough to still be hospitalized two weeks later. Being a very close family, the trauma was acute to the point that one of them attempted suicide.

And there were ten of them.

This was going to be an _interesting_ case.

* * *

The next morning, Harold McBride picked Rita, Lisa, and Lana up just before 11:30. On the way over, he said, "Dr. Lopez really is the best. I don't expect everything to be sunshine and lollypops overnight, of course, but you and your family are in good hands."

"I hope so," Rita said absently. She was sitting in the back next to Lisa, the little girl's hand crushing hers in a terrified death grip. Her eyes were closed, and she trembled slightly. "I just want to get back to normal. Or as close as I can get."

Dr. Lopez's office was housed in a small brick building with a shingle roof on the edge of downtown. Tall, leafy trees cast sun-dappled shadows across a grassy area skirting the structure. Harold pulled into a slot in front of the main doors and killed the engine.

"We're here, honey," Rita told Lisa. The little girl's grip slowly lessened and her eyes came open.

"It's okay, Lisa," Lana said, "we're safe."

Lisa nodded shakily. Inside, Rita stopped at a reception desk. "We have a noon appointment with Dr. Lopez," she said, "Lisa and Lana Loud."

"Alright," the receptionist said. He gathered some papers and put them on a clipboard. "Fill this out and the doctor will be with you monetarily."

Rita took a seat and went over the forms. Questions about the kids, their mental state, their habits, their likes and dislikes. It seemed a little much, but Rita filled them out to the best of her ability, occasionally stopping to ask her daughters what she should put down. There wasn't much Rita didn't know.

"Dr. Lopez is thorough," Harold said. "When I first saw those questions, I thought she was insane, but there's a method to her madness." He chuckled. Rita finished with the forms and returned them to the receptionist. For the first time, she was able to take stock of her surroundings. The waiting room was painted a soft shade of blue. There were no overhead lights, she noticed; lamps sat on either side of the space, providing warm yellow light. The only sound, aside from the clicking of the receptionist's keyboard, was the whir of the air conditioning. The atmosphere was tranquil, sleepy, even.

Rita was starting to worry she'd fall asleep when a large Hispanic woman in a black pantsuit appeared from a hallway. She wore bright red lipstick. "Mrs. Loud? I'm Dr. Lopez."

Rita stood, and they shook hands. "If you could come back to my office, I'd like to talk to you for a minute."

"Of course."

Dr. Lopez noticed Harold and smiled. "How are you today?"

"I can't complain," Harold said.

In her office, Dr. Lopez shut the door and crossed to a cluttered desk. Rita sank into an overstuffed armchair and looked around. Framed photos hung on the wall alongside degrees, certificates, citations, plaques, and motivational posters. A potted plant stood in one corner. On a desk, Rita saw toys, books, and other things she couldn't name but assumed were tools of the trade, as it were.

Dr. Lopez settled into her chair, which creaked under her weight. "I just wanted to touch base with you and get a general idea of what happened and what your concerns are, that way I know how best to approach your children."

Sighing, Rita sat her purse on her lap and started telling Dr. Lopez everything, from the moment Leni called her at the airport to Lana's failed suicide attempt. Dr. Lopez listened dispassionately, nodding here, making sounds of acknowledgement there. Rita Loud's distress was evident: Dark bags hung under her eyes, and her skin was a sickly, sallow shade. When she spoke, she sounded like she was moments away from breaking down. This was to be expected, of course; not only had she lost her husband and two of her daughters, she had nearly lost two more: Luan to the accident and Lana to herself.

When Rita seemed to have run out of steam and fell silent, Dr. Lopez said, "Alright. I'd like to see Lana first, please. Could you send her in?"

Rita nodded. "Sure." She got up and went into the waiting room.

Lana Loud sat stiffly in the armchair recently occupied by her mother, her eyes darting around the room. "I can sense you're anxious," Dr. Lopez said. She reached into a drawer and pulled out small white bin and handed it to Lana. "Maybe these will help."

Lana took the bin and looked inside: It was filled with fake bugs of every sort. Rubber spiders and flies and centipedes and grasshoppers and even maggots. "Oh, wow," Lana said, taking out a fly as big as her hand and studying it. "These are cool."

"I figured you'd like them," Dr. Lopez smiled. "Your mom says you're a real tomboy."

Lana shrugged one shoulder as she pulled out a maggot. "I guess."

"When I was little, I was like that," Dr. Lopez said. "In fact, I still am. I'd rather play in the mud than go to a fancy ball any time."

"Yeah, I don't really like girly stuff," Lana said. "My sister did."

"Which sister?"

Lana was quiet for a minute. "Lola. She was my twin."

"I bet you two were really close," Dr. Lopez said.

Lana nodded. "Yeah, we were really close. It's...even though we didn't like a lot of the same things, we still...had a lot in common, you know?"

"You don't have to like all the same things as someone to have a lot in common. My husband likes a lot of things I _hate_ , but we get along just fine. Did you and Lola get along?"

"Most of the time. We argued some."

"All sisters do."

"We were arguing when it happened." Lana turned a rubber grasshopper over in her hands and looking at it with detachment.

"The accident?"

Lana silently nodded. "Yeah. We were playing tea party before we left and she wanted to play it again when we got home but I wanted to do something else. We were arguing in the car, then we started fighting and..." the little girl shook her head.

"Honey..." Dr. Lopez said. "Do you...do you blame yourself for the accident?"

Lana nodded. "Yes," she said dully. "If we weren't arguing, dad wouldn't have taken his eyes off the road."

For a moment Dr. Lopez didn't say anything, then she leaned forward. "Lana...do you remember what happened? The actual accident?"

Lana thought for a moment, then shook her head. "I just remember we flipped over."

"It was a Mac truck," Dr. Lopez said. She remembered some details from the news, but before the Louds came in, she made a point to Google it. "It jackknifed because the cargo inside wasn't tied down properly. This was on a busy highway with dozens of vehicles traveling, on average, sixty miles per hour. Under those conditions, there was no way your father could have avoided a collision. No one could have. Except a race car driver _maybe_ , but even that's a stretch."

"I guess," Lana said.

Reaching into another drawer, Dr. Lopez brought out a foam ball. "Lana, could you pretend you're looking into a rearview mirror please?"

"Why?" Lana asked.

"Just trust me."

Nodding, Lana tilted her head and glanced up as if into a mirror.

A ball hit her in the face.

"Hey," she said, shocked into a chuckle.

"That's how quickly it happened. It would have hit your face even if you were looking at me."

"Maybe not."

Moving more quickly than Lana expected for a woman of her size, Dr. Lopez produced another ball and threw it. Lana managed to duck, but the ball still grazed the side of her head.

"Only it wasn't a ball," Dr. Lopez said. "It was a tractor trailer. Your father had two options: Plow into it head-on or try to turn and apply the brakes. The fact that his eyes were off the road for two seconds does not change that fact. Even if he'd had his eyes straight ahead, there would have been a collision. In fact, knowing that stretch of interstate myself, I'm almost certain you were being tailgated. Had your father seen the wreck in enough time to brake – which is a big _if_ – do you know what would have happened?"

Lana shook her head.

"You would have been rear-ended and possibly pushed into the Mac truck. The average trailer on one of those things comes about to windshield height on your typical van. Had you been thrust forward by a rear-end collision, the top of the van could very well have been sheared off, and instead of losing three members of your family, you could have lost more. In fact, everyone may have died."

Lana turned that over in her head for a long moment, trying to find flaws in Dr. Lopez's logic. If there _were_ any, she didn't see them. "You really think so?"

"I do," Dr. Lopez said. "Can I show you something?"

Lana nodded.

Dr. Lopez handed her a laminated sheet. There were random pictures on it. The back of a car. A coffee maker. A rock. A peanut. They had had one thing in common: They had faces. For the car it was the bumper and the taillights, for the rock it was water stains. Some only had eyes and mouths, others had noses and even eyebrows.

"What do you see?" Dr. Lopez asked.

"Faces," Lana replied.

"Do you know why that is?"

Lana shook her head.

"Our brains are programmed to make meaning out of chaos. We're hardwired to make sense of things even if they don't make sense. What happened on that highway two weeks ago was chaos. It didn't make sense. Your brain latched onto the only thing that it could turn into meaning: That you and Lola arguing caused the accident. It did that because it's easier to accept that we are at fault for something than it is to accept that things sometimes just happen. The random nature of life and the universe is a scary thing. Our minds realize that, and do everything they can to turn nonsense into sense. Let me ask you this: If your father and your sisters walked through that door right now, what would they say? What would they do?"

Lana looked down at her hands.

"They would hug you and they would tell you they love you."

Lana started to cry then. "But it's my fault."

"No it's not," Dr. Lopez said firmly. "You are not to blame for what happened. How do you think they would feel if they were there to see you cutting your wrists with a piece of glass?"

"Bad," Lana said through her tears. "I...I miss them so much." She cried harder.

"I know you do." She leaned forward and put her hand on the girl's shoulder. "But blaming yourself for what happened won't bring them back."

For a long time, Lana wept.

When she was done, she sat back in her chair and sighed.

"How do you feel?" Dr. Lopez asked.

"Better," Lana said. "I still hurt, though."

"That's natural. In time, you'll feel better, but for now, you have to realize that what happened was a random accident and that your family needs you, Lana."

Rubbing her eyes, Lana nodded. The doctor's words had penetrated the fog of her grief. She thought back to the looks on Leni, Luna, and her mother's faces the previous morning, and she was filled with a regret that was much, much stronger than the pain. How could she have done that to them?

"When you start to blame yourself, Lana, I want you to remember that it's only your brain trying to make sense of it. Once you fully realize that and can't recognize when it's happening, you can get the better of it."

Lana nodded. "I will. I promise."

"Good. I'd like to see you back in one week. Can you please send Lisa in?"

* * *

Psychiatry was not something Lisa was familiar with. She'd given it a cursory study, but it never really grabbed her interest the way the natural sciences had. Sitting in the armchair and facing Dr. Lopez, Lisa felt out of her element, and was uncomfortable. She tried to remember all of the techniques she'd learned from what she _did_ read, but they all fled from her.

"Your mother tells me that you are a prodigy," Dr. Lopez said.

"I don't prefer that term myself, but it's an apt enough description."

Dr. Lopez was not typically apprehensive about patients, but upon learning of Lisa's gifted nature, she did feel a slight anxiety. The smarter someone was, she had learned, the more likely they were to be able to fully rationalize and defend their positions, even if they were wrong. The highest ranking members of the Nazi Party were given IQ tests before the Nuremberg Trials, and every single one of them was found to be genius. The one with the lowest IQ (Speer, Hitler's architect, if she remembered correctly) was still well, well above average. During the trials, they defended their actions and their worldview so well you could _almost_ begin to believe they were right.

She decided that she would allow Lisa to lead this session. Without letting her know what she was doing, of course.

"Okay," Dr. Lopez said. "Then I'll trust your insights. Tell me: What is wrong?"

Lisa sighed and didn't speak for a long time. "To be honest, I am terrified of cars."

Over the course of fifteen minutes, Dr. Lopez coaxed the story out of her. Lisa told her everything she could remember about the accident, then about coming to on the highway and her subsequent battles with anxiety whenever she was forced to get into a car. "I suffer nightmares about the accident," Lisa confided. "And flashbacks, too."

 _PTSD?_ Dr. Lopez scribbled on a note.

"When you were describing the events leading up to the accident, you mentioned Lana and Lola arguing. The tone you used was...accusatory. Do you believe Lana is at fault?"

Lisa blinked at the frankness of the question. "That's something I've grappled with," Lisa admitted. "At first, I did blame her. Lola too, of course, but she is beyond reproach at this point. So yes, I blamed Lana. When I saw her attempting suicide yesterday, it was like a brisk slap to the face. I...I think a part of me does still hold her responsible, but irrationally so. I know in my head that the accident was unavoidable. It wouldn't have mattered if my father was looking at the road or looking into a compact mirror and doing his make-up. I remember us being almost on top of the truck when it happened. There's nothing he could have done. I love my sister, Dr. Lopez, and seeing her in the state she was in yesterday morning greatly distressed me."

"I bet it did," Dr. Lopez said, "you seem to care for her very much. Lana, as I'm sure you know, blames herself as well. I think I got to the root of it with her. And that root is: Pain. She's hurting and she misses her father and her sisters. You, Lisa...I think you're hurting and you miss them too."

"Of course I do," Lisa said.

"As I told Lana, our brain is programmed to make sense out of chaos. A hyper-rational person like you, Lisa...you especially need something to hold onto, something tangible to direct your negative feelings at. Do you believe in God?"

"No."

"In times like this, religious people blame God. They say 'God, why have you forsaken me?' or 'How could you let this happen?'. But you don't have that. You realize that life is a random pattern of events. You don't have a God to blame, but you're human, Lisa, and you need _something._ That something is Lana. You yourself admitted that you've logically reached the conclusion that she was not responsible for the crash. You _know_ that she wasn't, but yet, you're hurting, you're in pain, and you need something to point to as the source of your distress."

Lisa opened her mouth to attempt to counter the argument, but closed her mouth instead and meditated on it. Inside her, she felt a faint stirring...the stirring of revelation.

"I'm not an overly emotional person," Lisa said with a sigh, "but I did love my father and Lori and Lola as well. Not having them around anymore is..." she pushed up her glasses and wiped tears from her eyes. "It's hard. It makes me sad, and yes, it makes me angry. And...and you're right about not having something tangible to be angry at."

Dr. Lopez handed her a tissue and she took it.

"As for your fear of cars...that's not going to be quite as easy to address, is it?"

Lisa shook her head. "I don't think it will be. I realize that the odds are statistically against my being in another major accident. Still, when I see a car, I flash back to what happened and...like my blaming Lana, I know it's irrational, but I can't help myself. I am ashamed of that fact."

"Do me a favor, Lisa. I want you to close your eyes and take me through the accident again. Step-by-step. Can you do that?"

Lisa nodded. She closed her eyes and started to describe what she saw: She could envision the scene with perfect clarity. She was sitting in the middle seat of the van, her arms crossed. Behind her, Lola and Lana were arguing over fairy princess tea parties and playing in the mud. Dad glanced into the mirror. "Knock it off back there!"

Out the windshield, Lisa saw the truck jackknifing, and her heart jumped into her throat. Luna screamed, and dad jerked the wheel. Lisa was panting now, her heart slamming, her stomach sick.

"Open your eyes."

Lisa did. She was trembling.

"It helps to remember the trauma," Dr. Lopez said. "To immerse yourself in it. My goal here is to get it to the point where you can recall that accident with the cool detachment of someone watching a movie. From there, we can address your overall fear of cars. Once you can control the trauma, you can control the feelings that stem from it."

Lisa nodded.

"I don't advise doing it on your own," Dr. Lopez cautioned, "but if you can get your brother or one of your sisters to help walk you through it, you might be able to. I think you have a very mild cast of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I don't think you will have any serious reactions if you try self-therapy, but it is possible, which is why if you do, I want you to have one of your siblings with you. Or even your mother. It'll take time to get you through this, but I'm certain we can."

Dr. Lopez smiled and patted Lisa's knee.

"Thank you," Lisa said. "I appreciate it."

Dr. Lopez nodded. "I want to see you back here in one week."

Lisa nodded and went into the waiting room. She didn't feel cured, but she did feel better.

Getting into the car still scared her shitless, though.


	13. Emotional Rescue

_I have three openings tomorrow. Who should I see?_

Rita thought long and hard about that. Leni, of course, but who else? _Lynn and Lucy_ she finally said. Lynn was easily frustrated lately, which wasn't like her: The previous night while trying to open a CapriSun, she accidentally stabbed the pointy end of the straw through the back of the pouch, got mad, and slammed it to the ground. "Stupid thing!" Lucy was still having bad dreams; she didn't thrash and whimper the way Leni did, but she _did_ talk in her sleep.

In the car on the way home, Rita asked, "How did it go?"

"Alright," Lana said, looking out the window. She turned to her mother. "I'm sorry about what I did. Trying to kill myself, I mean."

Rita reached over and touched her daughter's face. "I'm just glad you're okay. You mean the world to me."

Lana smiled and kissed her mother's hand. "I know. You mean the world to me too."

At home, Leni, Luna, Lilly, and Lincoln were in the living room, Lincoln in his wheelchair and the others on the couch. A movie was playing on TV, and when Rita came in, she caught a glimpse of a vampire biting someone's neck.

"Where are Lynn and Lucy?" Rita asked, setting her purse on the table.

"Outside," Luna said without diverting her attention from the TV.

"What are you watching?"

"Horror movie."

Rita stood behind the couch and crossed her arms. On the screen, vampires ran wild through a city street, jumping on screaming bystanders and biting their necks. A cop car pulled into frame, its lights flashing, and vampires ripped the officers out and fell on them.

"How about we watch something else?" Rita asked.

"Come on, mom," Lincoln said, "it's not that bad. It's on TNT so all the bad stuff's edited out."

"I still don't like it," Rita said, picking up her youngest daughter and smiling. "And I don't think Lilly does either." Lilly didn't seem to care one way or another.

"Alright," Luna sighed. She picked up the remote and changed the channel. "Hey, Linc, you wanna take that walk you were talking about?"

"Sure," Lincoln said. "You up to pushing me in the heat?"

"You weigh, like, fifty pounds, dude," Luna said, rubbing his head, "I'll manage."

"Alright," he laughed.

Fifteen minutes later, Lynn helped Luna get wheelchair out the front door (lifting the front while Luna lifted the back), and huffed. "That thing's heavy. It'd be easier just to give him a piggyback ride."

"Ha, ha," Lincoln said.

From the driveway, Luna pushed him south, staying on the sidewalk. The July heat pressed close, broken by the occasional breeze. The sounds of kids laughing and playing seasoned the air. From somewhere, a lawnmower roared, and the smell of fresh cut grass found Lincoln's nostrils.

"I miss coming outside," he said.

"All you gotta do is ask," Luna said. "I don't mind wheeling you around."

Lincoln shrugged. "It still makes me feel kind of bad. All of it. You've been waiting on me hand and foot since I came home. Since _before_ I came home."

"Well, duh," Luna said, "you're in a wheelchair. What do you expect me to do, put you in a corner and leave you there? You'd do the same for me, right?"

"Of course," Lincoln said without hesitation.

Luna leaned close to his ear. "Then shut up." She gently bit the lobe, and Lincoln jumped.

"Hey!" he laughed. "You're not supposed to eat me!"

"But I'm hungry," Luna said as they paused at an intersection and waited for a car to pass. "I didn't have lunch and waiting hand and foot on someone really works up an appetite."

"Oh, nice."

They crossed the street. "Anywhere in particular you wanna go?" Luna asked.

Lincoln thought. "Not really. I just want to be out of the house for a little while."

They were out of the residential area and entering the outer bands of downtown Royal Woods. Shops and restaurants lined shaded brick sidewalks. Lincoln shook and bounced in his wheelchair. "Sorry, bro," Luna said. People walked lazily along, enjoying the summer afternoon, some of them holding shopping bags. Luna moved to the edge of the sidewalk to allow a woman pushing a double stroller to pass. Two little boys with red faces and curly blonde hair dozed. They were dressed in matching uniforms of white T-shirts and plaid shorts. They reminded Luna of Lola and Lana, and she sighed heavily.

"What's wrong?" Lincoln asked.

"Nothing," Luna replied, "I was just thinking about Lola. Do you remember when mom brought them home and none of us could tell them apart?"

Lincoln chuckled. "Yeah, I do." Mom dressed them alike every day, except Lola's outfits were pink and Lana's were light blue (which, Lincoln thought, kind of foreshadowed their personalities). Aside from that, they were totally and utterly identical. Dad used to joke that they got them mixed up and Lola was really Lana and Lana was really Lola. He may have been closer to the truth than he realized.

"Remember when mom and dad went out that one time, and Lola and Lana both got naked and pooped everywhere and we didn't know who was who?"

Luna laughed. "Lori _freaked_."

"Yeah, she did. _'Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.'"_

They both laughed.

"I don't know what freaked her out more," Luna said, "all the poop or not knowing which kid was which."

Suddenly Lincoln felt very depressed. "I miss them," he said.

"So do I," Luna said.

They had reached the end of the block. An ice cream shop with a walk up window sat on the corner. People waited in line. Others sat at picnic tables and hurriedly ate before the sun could melt their treats.

"You want some ice cream?" Luna asked.

"Yeah, why not?"

They waited behind a fat man in sunglasses and a black shirt. Lincoln studied the menu above the window, nothing particularly appealing to him. Finally he settled on plain chocolate; Luna got mint chocolate chip. They ate at one of the picnic tables, Luna facing him and resting her back against the table's edge. "You digging that chocolate, bro?" she asked.

"Yeah, it's actually pretty good." Despite being apathetic at first, Lincoln was nearly finished. Some dripped onto his hand, and he licked it off. "How's yours?"

She didn't respond, and when he looked up he saw why: The tip of the cone was sticking out of her mouth. She nodded and gave him two thumbs up. "Not bad," she said when she was done. "Not bad at all. You ready to head back?"

"Yeah."

Luna leaned in and kissed him on the lips, her tongue slipping into his mouth. He was surprised, but returned the favor; her breath was minty, her tongue cold.

"You're right," she said, "that chocolate _is_ good."

Lincoln chuckled. "You're gross."

By the time they got home twenty minutes later, Lincoln's leg was beginning to hurt, and Luna got him a painkiller. Warm bliss soon spread through him, and the rest of the afternoon passed in a heady rush. At dinner, mom announced that Lynn, Lucy, and Leni were seeing Dr. Lopez in the morning. Lynn groaned.

"Come on, mom, I don't need to see a shrink," she said.

"She's not a shrink," Rita said, "she's a therapist, someone you talk to when you have a lot on your mind."

"I really don't want to talk about what's on my mind," Lynn countered. "I want to deal with it myself."

"Lynn," Rita sighed, "we're all seeing Dr. Lopez. We're all upset and we're all in pain. And _you're_ more irritable than usual."

Lynn didn't reply to that. She knew she was. "Alright," she relented.

That night, Lincoln and Luna lay arm-in-arm, enjoying being close to one another. "I'm going to miss this," Lincoln said.

"What do you mean?" Luna asked.

"When everything gets back to normal. When I'm back in my room and you and Luan are back in yours."

Luna knew that was coming, but she didn't want to think about it. She had gotten used to sleeping with Lincoln, and the thought of not having him beside her at night was more than she could bear right now.

"We have right now," she said, "let's focus on that."

* * *

Lynn Loud sat in Dr. Lopez's waiting room the next morning, her arms crossed. She did not want to be there. It was stupid. She wanted to be home, where she and Lucy could play ball; her kid sister was actually pretty good. With a little work, she could be _really_ good.

Though she and Lucy had always been fairly close, Lynn felt like she and her sister had bonded more over the past few days. Currently, Lucy was flipped absently through a copy of _People._ "How old is it?" Lynn asked.

"What?" Lucy asked, looking up.

"How old is that magazine?"

Lucy closed the it and looked at the cover. "April," she said.

"Figures," Lynn said. "The magazines in doctors' offices are always old."

"This one's not," Leni said. She was reading a fashion magazine. "It's this month's."

"That's surprising," Lynn said. "I was expecting it to be from the nineties."

"Lynn," mom sighed, "can you please stop being so grumpy? I know you don't want to be here. You made that very clear."

Lynn rolled her eyes but didn't speak.

A few minutes later, a big Hispanic woman in black came into the waiting room. "So, who's first?" she asked.

Everyone looked at each other. "I guess I'll go," Lynn said, getting up. Might as well get it over with as soon as she could.

In her office, Dr. Lopez closed the door and sat down. "You have such a big family I can't keep everyone straight. You're...?"

"Lynn."

"Okay. Your mom told me you play sports."

"Yeah," Lynn said.

"What kind?"

"All kinds. Baseball, football, hockey, basketball. You name it."

"Oh, that's cool. I played basketball in high school." Dr. Lopez touched her stomach. "Before I was fat."

Lynn couldn't help chuckle. "You'd make a pretty good linebacker."

"That's what my husband says. He's thin as a rail, so I tell him he'd make a good waterboy."

Lynn snickered.

"So, first of all, I just want to say I'm sorry for your loss. I know you're probably sick of hearing that by now, but I really _am_ sorry. Losing a parent – and two siblings – is just so awful. How are you taking it?"

Lynn shrugged. "Fine."

"That's it? Just fine?"

Lynn shrugged again.

"I get the feeling," Dr. Lopez said, "that you're the kind of person who doesn't really like talking about their feelings."

"Pretty much."

"Alright. There's nothing wrong with that. Still, I know you have to be going through a lot of emotions, and I wish you'd talk to me, if not for your sake for your mother's. She's very worried about you and your siblings."

Lynn opened her mouth but closed it again, taking a moment to collect her thoughts. "I'm sad. I miss my father and I miss Lori and Lola."

"Is sadness the _only_ thing you feel?"

"No."

"What else?"

"Anger."

Dr. Lopez nodded. "That's understandable. Anger is one of the most common emotions associated with grief."

"It just isn't fair," Lynn said. "Why did it have to happen?"

"In these kinds of situations, we often ask ourselves 'why'. Why did it have to happen to _us_? Why couldn't we have left the house ten minutes earlier or ten minutes later? I wish I could give you an answer, but there really are none. It might sound callous to say that these things just happen, but it's true: They _do_ just happen."

"Yeah," Lynn said.

"It's okay to be angry about it. When my grandmother died, I was angry. She was like a second mother to me. It was cancer. She went to the doctor one day for a check-up, and three months later she was dead. She worked for forty years. She raised six children. She finally retires and plans to enjoy life, and she's gone six months later. How unfair." Dr. Lopez shook her head. "I was so _mad_. I wanted to punch someone but who could I punch? Cancer doesn't have a face, or teeth you can knock out. For the longest time I was angry. My temper was short, I couldn't sleep, I didn't eat. One day I tripped coming into my house. I didn't fall down, I didn't hurt myself, just...stumbled. I reacted by grabbing a vase off the table and smashing it against the wall. It was at that moment I snapped out of it. What was I _doing_? I was acting like one of those people you see throwing a tantrum in public. You know the ones: You see them and shake your head because, wow. I didn't want to be like that. The anger...it was hurting me in a lot of ways."

"What did you do?" Lynn asked curiously.

"I stopped. Cold turkey. It wasn't easy. I was used to being mad, so when something would frustrate me, I would start to get angry. When I realized I was getting angry, I would stop, take ten deep breaths, and ask myself: Is my anger justified? Most of the time, it wasn't. I'd try to open a package and couldn't. Simple, normal, everyday things like that. Sure, those little things can be annoying, but you don't blow up over them."

Lynn thought back to the CapriSun pouch she slammed against the floor the previous day, and felt a rush of shame.

"Feeling anger is normal and healthy, indulging in it isn't. It only hurts you and the people around you."

"I don't want to be like that," Lynn said.

"Well, the first thing you need to do is realize that you're not angry because you tripped or because you misplaced your bat or whatever. You're angry because you lost your dad and sisters."

"How do I stop being angry over that?"

"By accepting what happened. It's natural to want to rage against it, but when you get right down to it, there's no point. It's like spinning your tires in the mud. I don't expect you to accept it now, or even in a couple weeks, it's going to take time. Until then, all you can really do is manage your anger."

Lynn let the doctor's words sink in. She thought of what her anger could do to her family, and decided, then and there, to control it.

* * *

Leni was afraid. Sitting in Dr. Lopez's office, her arms crossed against the cold air rushing from an overhead vent, she fought – and largely failed – to calm her racing heart. She didn't know what happened in a therapist's office, but she assumed Dr. Lopez would want to know about her dreams, and Leni absolutely did _not_ want to talk about them. It was bad enough actually _having_ them.

"I like your top," Dr. Lopez said. "It's cute."

"Thank you," Leni said. "I made it myself."

"Really?"

"Yeah. I like fashion."

"I like fashion too, but when you're fat like I am, your choices are pretty limited."

"Oh, I see stuff for bigger people all the time. You just have to know where to look."

"Do you want to be a designer when you get older?" Dr. Lopez asked.

"Totally. There's a school in Chicago I really want to go to. A lot of the best designers went there and the teachers are all, like, the best in the industry. It's pretty expensive so I don't know if I can afford it."

Dr. Lopez shrugged. "I'm sure you can find a grant or get a scholarship. Chicago's a long way from home, though. You're very close with your family, right?"

Leni nodded. "Yeah, we're all really close."

"Do you think you could handle being so far away from them?"

Leni thought for a few moments. "It would be hard," she confessed, "but, like, you can't live at home forever."

"That's true. Which of your siblings are you closest with?"

Leni started to speak, then stopped. She really didn't know; she was close with all of them. "I was really close to Lori," she finally said, "before."

"You were about the same age, right?"

Leni nodded. "She's – she was – seventeen."

"Not having her around anymore must be difficult."

"Yeah. We shared a room and now it feel so empty and..." she trailed off. She almost brought up her dreams.

"And?"

"Nothing," Leni said.

Rita Loud mentioned Leni's nightmares. Dr. Lopez figured getting her to talk about them wouldn't be particularly easy. "I think it is something. You know, talking about it will help. It isn't good to bottle all those feelings up."

Leni sighed. "I just...I have bad dreams."

Dr. Lopez nodded. "What about?"

Leni trembled. "Lori," she whispered.

"What happens in these dreams? Are they about the accident?"

Leni shook her head. "Not really. They're, like...Lori's alive again, but not like the accident never happened. She died and she's back, and..."

"Does she do anything to you?"

"No. She's just there and..."

Closing her eyes, Leni fought the tears.

"It's not right. I keep thinking 'Why are you here? You shouldn't be here'."

"Did you...see Lori after the accident?"

Leni nodded, tears sliding down her face. "Yes. She was hanging out of the window. And her arm was gone."

The girl broke down then, bending over and sobbing. Dr. Lopez reached over and patted her back. After a few moments, she sat back up and got herself under control. "I keep thinking about it. It's, like, burned into my brain."

Dr. Lopez nodded. "Unfortunately, traumatic images have a way of staying with us. The worse something is, the bigger mark it leaves behind. You say you keep thinking about it. Whenever you think about Lori or talk about her, is that the image that comes to mind?"

Leni nodded miserably.

"I want you to try something for me, okay? Can you try something?"

"What?"

"I want you to think happy thoughts about Lori. Instead of flashing back to the accident, flash to a happy memory. What's the happiest memory you have of Lori?"

Leni thought for a long time. There were so many, she realized. She closed her eyes and tried to pick a favorite, but couldn't.

"There are a lot, aren't there?" Dr. Lopez asked.

"A _whole_ lot," Leni said.

"Tell me one."

"Well...there was one time I fell off my bike when I was eight and I skinned my knee, and Lori helped me."

"See? That's a nice, happy memory, your older sister taking care of you. Whenever you start to have bad thoughts, focus on that. I also want you to do that right before you fall asleep. Think happy thoughts of your sister."

"Do you think it will help?"

"With the nightmares? Yes. The underlying trauma itself may take time. Coming to terms with the loss of a loved one – in this case loved _ones_ – doesn't happen overnight. I believe everybody has their own unique pace when it comes to acceptance. Some people can come to terms with death in a short period of time, others need months or even years. Talking helps."

"I _do_ feel a little better."

"Good," Dr. Lopez said, "we're already making progress."

* * *

Lucy was last. She sat in the chair with her hands on her knees and examined all the certificates and awards hanging on the walls.

"Tell me about yourself, Lucy," Dr. Lopez said.

Lucy shrugged. "There really isn't much to tell. I like reading, horror movies, the paranormal...things like that."

"Who's your favorite author."

"I don't really have one," the girl replied. "I kind of like Stephen King, but I've only read a few of his books. Dean Koontz is okay. John Saul's alright."

"I like Stephen King a lot," Dr. Lopez said. "He has a way of making the supernatural seem believable. Which books have you read?"

" _Carrie_ and _Gerald's Game._ "

Dr. Lopez raised an eyebrow. " _Gerald's Game_ is an awfully grown-up book."

Lucy shrugged. "It was awfully boring too."

Dr. Lopez chuckled. "You didn't like it?"

"Not really," Lucy said. "The parts with the serial killer are pretty cool, but otherwise nothing really happened: It was about a woman handcuffed to a bed. Three hundred pages of internal dialogue that might be deep and literary, but in a book something should _happen_."

"You're not wrong. I think you might like some of his earlier books. Do you like vampires?"

"Yes. Very much."

"Then you should read _'Salem's Lot_. That has a lot of vampires in it."

Lucy made a mental note to see if the library had a copy.

"So, I just wanted to talk to you about what happened and how you're reacting to it. I imagine you must be in pain over the loss of your dad and sisters."

Lucy nodded. "Yeah. It's really upsetting."

"Have you been having nightmares?"

Again, Lucy nodded. "I didn't have one last night, and I can't remember having one the night before, though I probably did."

"What are they about?"

Lucy sighed. "It's weird. I'm lying awake in bed and I can hear them crying in the vents."

"Who?"

"My dad. Lori and Lola."

"That sounds like a frightening dream."

"It is."

"Have you been thinking a lot of the accident?"

"Yeah," Lucy said.

"I'll tell you what I told Leni: Think happy thoughts. When you think of your father or your sisters, don't think of them in the context of death or the accident. Pick a happy memory and focus on that."

Lucy nodded. "Makes sense, I guess."

"How are you relating to the rest of your family? You strike me as the type of person who prefers being by themselves."

Lucy shrugged. "Kind of. I...I've been interacting a lot more. I haven't really felt like being alone much, and..."she trailed off.

Dr. Lopez waited.

The girl sighed. "I'm just...I'm afraid of losing the rest of my family. I don't think I could handle that. And I'm afraid of them not knowing how much they mean to me. I never really told Lori and Lola how much I loved them, or my dad, and that bothers me. After the accident I thought back to the last time I talked to them, and I realized those final words were so meaningless."

"No one expects a conversation to be their last with someone," Dr. Lopez said. "And most people don't expect to have to...express their feelings in a deep and meaningful manner. When we have someone – a parent, a sibling, or a spouse – we don't stop to think 'I should really bare my soul because they might not be here in ten minutes.' We expect to have years and years with them. In the natural course of life, love shows through in little bits. A hug here, a helping hand there. It's when that person is gone that we realize we still have so much love left in our hearts and we start to wish we had dumped it all out when we had the chance."

Lucy nodded. She'd had a similar thought after the accident.

"Your father and your sisters knew you loved them, just as you know they loved you even though they never sat down and poured it all out at once, correct?"

Lucy nodded again. "Yeah. I know. I just want to make sure everyone know how much I love them, because each minute could be their last."

"And there's nothing wrong with that. In fact, it's _good_ to treat your family that way, because life is a fragile thing."

"I just wish I did that with the others."

"Like I said, they knew. If they were here right now, they would say so, and they would tell you that they don't want you to live with so many regrets."

"You're right," Lucy said.

Dr. Lopez smiled.

Before the Louds left, Dr. Lopez called Rita into her office. "I addressed Lucy and Leni's nightmares and Lynn's irritability. Lucy is very regretful that she didn't express the full bredth of her love for her father, Lori, and Lola. She says that she's afraid of losing someone else, so I foresee her being clingy for a while, but given her emotions right now, that's natural. I think she'll eventually come out of it. Leni's dealing with the trauma of seeing Lori's body after the accident, that's what's causing the nightmares. I told her and Lucy both to think happy thoughts of their sisters, and I think it would help if you frequently reminded them of happy moments they shared."

Rita nodded.

"Lynn is angry at the injustice what happened. That anger stems from pain, of course. I prescribed some mental exercises for her to employ when she gets frustrated. She seemed to realize the potential impact her anger has on others, and she told me adamantly that she didn't want to be an angry person. I would like to see Leni next week. I don't think I need to schedule future appointments for Lynn and Lucy, as they seem to be dealing fairly normally, but you can certainly bring them in if they need it. If Lynn's anger persists, bring her in. If Lucy's nightmares persist, bring her in too."

Rita nodded. "Thank you," she said. "Thank you so much."

Dr. Lopez smiled. "Seeing those girls get better is all the thanks I need. I have an open slot tomorrow. I still need to see Lincoln and Luna, correct? Luan's still in the hospital?"

"Yes."

"Alright, I can see either one, or we can do a joint session. I don't usually do that, but since this is more of an evaluation than anything else, I don't think it would matter."

"That's fine. They've really grown close since the accident. I don't think they'd mind doing it together."

"Alright," Dr. Lopez said. "Tomorrow at three."


	14. Under the Blade

From Dr. Lopez's office, Rita Loud went to Royal Woods General. When she entered Luan's room, her daughter was sitting up in bed and eating lunch. She smiled. "Hey, mom."

"Hey, honey, how are you feeling?"

"Alright." That wasn't entirely true. Her head still ached. Before lunch, she told Dr. Dharma, and he ordered a CT scan. She was waiting on the results.

When Lynn, Leni, and Lucy came in, Luan brightened. "Hey, guys! How's it going?"

Lynn shrugged. "Been worse. How's your dome?"

"It hurts," Luan admitted. "Feels like a bad migraine."

She told her family about the CT scan. A worried expression crossed Rita's face, and she took her daughter's hand. She was so tired of this. She just wanted everything to be normal again. She wanted Luan home, Lincoln up and walking, and everyone else happy and non-suicidal. God, how she missed the way things used to be. It seemed like a million years ago. In reality, it hadn't even been three weeks.

"It's probably nothing serious," Luan said, trying to calm her visibly shaken mother. "I was just in a car crash _and_ a coma. Both of those are a headache."

For a while, Luan and her sisters chatted while Rita sat impatiently in wait for Dr. Dharma. On the wall mounted TV, _The Price is Right_ played, Drew Carey standing aside as a black woman spun the wheel and jumped up and down in excited at the number it landed on. Rita was just about to get up and go ask after Dr. Dharma when he came into the room. "Mrs. Loud," he said, somewhat surprised, "just the woman I wanted to see. Can you step into the hall for a moment please?"

Rita glanced at her daughters, who looked worriedly at her and one another.

 _God, please..._ Rita thought. She pushed herself up from the chair, but her knees were weak and would not support her. No more bad news. Please, no more bad news. She got up and went into the hall. Dr. Dharma glanced over a clipboard, studying an X-ray of a human skull. Luan's, presumably.

"What's wrong?" Rita asked.

Turning the clipboard so that she could see, he pointed out a whitish mass with his pen. "There's a build-up of cerebrospinal fluid here in the ventricles. Luan has been complaining of headaches, nausea, lethargy, and blurred vision, which are all classic symptoms of acquired hydrocephalus. Acquired hydrocephalus is caused by blockage that prevents proper drainage, which, of course, leads to retention. This...can raise intracranial pressure inside the skull which compresses surrounding brain tissue, possibly causing progressive enlargement of the head, convulsions, and brain damage. Luckily, we caught it early."

Rita put her hand to her forehead. She suddenly felt faint. "W-What can you do?"

"Well, we're going to operate. There are a couple of things we can do for it, but in this case we're going to install a shunt. One end will going into the ventricles and the other end will let out in an area more able to absorb the fluid. Shunt repair surgery may have to be done in the future, especially in the first year, but the overall prognosis is good. Luan is in very little danger."

"Thank God for small favors," she said and tried to smile. "When is the surgery?"

"Two hours."

"How long will it take?"

"About an hour and a half to three hours. It's a fairly simple and routine procedure, but when you're messing around in someone's head, you want to take things slow and easy."

Rita nodded.

In the room, Dharma explained the situation to Luan in much the same way he had to Rita. Luan's face was drawn and pale. Leni held one of her hand and Lynn the other. Lucy rubbed her back.

"Compared to being in a coma, this surgery is nothing," he concluded.

"We'll be right here the whole time," Rita assured her daughter.

"Yeah," Lynn said. "We aren't going anywhere."

* * *

It was almost noon, and Lincoln Loud was eating a grilled cheese sandwich and resisting the urge to ask for another pill. Luna brought him one when he woke up, and that was supposed to last him until bedtime. His leg didn't hurt, but he wanted one anyway. He couldn't ask her for one; he didn't want to look like a junkie or something. He couldn't get it himself. That left him pretty much shit out of luck.

"How's that grilled cheese, bro?" Luna asked. She was sitting on the couch eating her own sandwich.

"It's good," he lied. In fact, it had no taste; he might as well have been eating cardboard. That wasn't her fault, though.

"You want another?" she asked, getting up. "I'm gonna have another."

"No, thank you." He took a big bite to please her and made a long _mmmhmmm_ sound. She touched his face as she passed, and he smiled up at her.

When she was gone, he sat his plate in his lap and sighed. This was ridiculous. He was acting like a drug addict. Suck it up, Loud, you're fine. He drummed his fingers on the arms of his wheelchair and tried to lose himself in the TV, but steady, insistent _need_ tugged at his consciousness. His mouth was dry. He rubbed his lips and swallowed. His butt was sore. He shifted his weight. Luna came back with another sandwich and dropped onto the couch. He realized he had half of his left, and the thought of eating it made him sick.

"You alright, bro?" Luna asked, worry creeping into her voice. "You're all pale and sweaty."

"I'm fine," he said a little too quickly. "My leg just hurts a little, that's all."

"Already?"

"Yeah, but it's fine. I'll deal with it."

Luna reached out and took his hand. Their fingers intertwined. His heart beat and his stomach felt funny, like it always did when he held his sister's hand. She grinned at him, and he grinned at her.

"You're really okay?" she asked.

"I'm better now," he said, and wasn't lying.

 _Focus on her. Focus on what you have._

He stared into her eyes, and wanted very much to kiss her. She leaned forward, he leaned forward...and she licked the side of his face.

"Gross!" he cried, pulling back and laughing. Her warm saliva felt strange and not entirely pleasant on his cheek. She laughed and slapped the arm of the couch as he rubbed his face against his shoulder. "You're weird."

"Sorry, bro, you just looked so yummy."

"Yeah, well, how did I taste?"

"Not that good, actually."

He slapped her arm and she laughed. "Hey! Domestic abuse!"

"And licking my face wasn't?"

"No. It was a sign of my love."

"Alright."

"You done with your sandwich?"

Lincoln looked down at the plate still in his lap. "Yeah, I'm done," he said.

Luna got up, grabbed the plate...and then, with her other hand, grabbed him. His cheeks blushed and his breath caught in his throat. She leaned in and kissed him, massaging him through his pants, and he kissed her back, putting his hand on the back of her neck. She melted into him, bumping his bad leg.

"Sorry, bro," she panted.

He replied by kissing her again.

"Alright, alright," she said, pulling away. "Too much more and I'm gonna jump your bones."

"Too much more and..." he trailed off. "I was going to make a pun, but I got nothing."

Luna felt him again. He was hard. Very hard. He sighed and threw his head back. "Stop."

She grinned devilishly and continued, part of her wanting to make him cum in his pants. "Really, stop!"

"Alright," she said, then leaned in and kissed his neck. "We'll pick this up later."

Lincoln grinned. "Yes we will."

Then went into the kitchen, throwing a sexy glance over her shoulder. He made a kissy face and she winked.

Sighing, he looked back at the TV. He felt good. Happy.

But he still wanted a pill.

Behind him, on the stairs, Lana knelt between the spindles, her eyes wide.

* * *

Rita waited anxiously with Lynn, Leni, and Lucy as Luan was wheeled into surgery. As they made their way down the hall, Rita held her daughter's hand and spoke as encouragingly as she could. From what Dr. Dharma had said, the operation was minor, though Rita suspected that anything having to do with the brain could hardly be termed "minor." Even so, with all that she had endured over the past three weeks, she loathed even the slightest possibility of something happening to one of her children.

"I love you, baby," Rita said before they took Luan through a set of double doors. She stroked her hair and kissed her forehead. Her sisters did likewise. "You mean everything to me."

Now, an hour later, Rita sat with her arms crossed over her chest. Her heart was racing and her stomach rolled. Leni paged absently through a fashion magazine while Lucy stared straight ahead and Lynn twiddled her thumbs. "She's going to be fine," Rita said, but her voice was unconvincing even to her own ears. Every terrible eventuality swirled through her head, and she fought to push them away: Luan's brain gushing blood on the operating table, splattering the doctors and nurses; Luan going into cardiac arrest and shaking while everyone screamed and rushed to save her; Luan foaming at the mouth as her brain rapidly shut down. Tears came to her eyes, but she blinked them away. She had Lynn, Leni, and Lucy to be strong for.

"Leni," Rita said, reaching into her purse, "you guys go down to the cafeteria and get something to eat." None of them had had lunch yet. For her part, Rita wasn't hungry. She took out a twenty dollar bill and handed it to Leni. "I'll text you if she comes out."

"I'm not really hungry," Lynn said.

"Then get a soda," Rita said.

Lynn nodded. "Alright." They got up and left, each stopping to kiss their mother on the forehead.

Alone, Rita leaned forward, put her hands to her face, and took a series of deep breaths. How much more of this could she take? First Lynn, Lori, and Lola, then Luan, then Lana...sometimes it felt like the world had gone crazy and would never come back.

Sighing, she sat up and checked her cell phone. She had a text from Luna. They'd been talking before Luan went into surgery. She opened it and read it. Nothing major. Nothing horrible. For that, Rita was thankful. If it said the house was on fire or someone fell down the stairs, she thought she'd lose control.

For a long time she sat there, rocking back and forth and waiting, hoping. She prayed to God, but didn't know if He was listening or not. Given the events of the past couple weeks, she doubted it: It was easy to imagine God up there somewhere, dead and rotting. She told herself that things happen. Car accidents. Floods. Cancer. And they had to happen to someone, right? But still, at the back of her mind, she wondered why her family? Why did her husband have to die? _Her_ daughters?

There _was_ no answer. She knew that. Still, she would feel a whole lot better if there was just _something_ she could grasp onto.

The walls were starting to close in on her. She got up, went over to the drinking fountain, and took a sip of lukewarm water. Then she went into the bathroom, used the toilet, and splashed water from the sink onto her face. She looked like shit. Her skin was pasty, her eyes rimmed with red. She couldn't stand to look at herself.

In the waiting room, she sat back down and picked up a six month old copy of _Time_. The cover featured Donald Trump standing at the podium during his inauguration, his fist raised into the air. She didn't want to read about Trump. She didn't want to read about anything.

"Mrs. Loud?"

Rita jumped. Dr. Dharma was there.

"How's Luan?"

"She's good. The surgery went smoothly and she's currently in the recovery room. Would you like to see her?"

Rita nodded, tears filling her eyes.

At that moment, she wanted nothing more.


	15. 2 Minutes to Midnight

That night, Lincoln and Luna made love then fell asleep in each other's arms. Or rather, Luna fell asleep in Lincoln's arms; he stayed awake well into the small hours of the morning, his stomach a writhing mass of anxiety. When Luna brought him his bedtime pill, he hid it under his tongue and then slipped it into his pillow case, resolving to take it only if he really needed it.

He didn't want to be a junkie.

By 2am, his leg was aching and he could barely stand the pain. Even then, he refused to take the pill; he simply buried his face into the crook of Luna's neck and gritted his teeth. After a while she stirred and muttered, and he realized he was squeezing her too tight. He kissed her, then slid his arm out from under her and stared at the ceiling. Lights from a passing car shot along the surface. In his periphery, the clock on the DVD player blinked endlessly: 11:58. 11:58. 11:58. Sweat rolled off of him in rivulets. He pulled off his shirt and tossed it onto the floor. He drew a breath, but the air was stale, and hot. He wiped his forehead and shifted: Pain snaked up his leg and he hissed over clenched teeth. The pain was bad, but the idea of being a drug addict was worse. He could handle being in agony; he couldn't handle putting his family through agony.

So he lay there in the dark for a long time, the pain growing steadily until it was all-consuming. Every breath was torment, every tremble of his pounding heart torture. He grabbed handfuls of the sheet beneath him and pulled. He bared his teeth. He shook his head. The pill called to him from his pillow case, its voice like that of a sweet siren inviting sailors to come dash their ships on her rocks. His resolve was crumbing. But it was okay. He wasn't taking it for fun, he was taking it for the pain, right?

No, no it _wasn't_ okay, because he'd get addicted either way.

Finally, the throbbing, clawing pain became too great. With trembling fingers, he took the pill out and dry swallowed it, the taste bitter in his mouth. It got stuck in his throat, and he had to swallow four times to get it down. He lay back against the pillow, panting and hating himself. Soon, he started to get warm and fuzzy. The pain dulled and disappeared. He closed his eyes and drifted for a long time, the darkness safe and loving. When consciousness next visited him, Luna was propped up on her elbow, looking at him with a little smile.

"Good morning," she said.

Lincoln blinked, his eyes crusted with sleep. "Good morning," he muttered. "What time is it?"

"Almost eight," she said. "We gotta start getting ready."

For a moment he didn't understand, then he remembered: They had an appointment with Dr. Lopez at nine. Lincoln yawned and rubbed his head. The last thing he felt like doing was talking to a therapist.

"Oh, come on, it'll be good to talk to someone," Luna said, sensing his displeasure.

"That's what I have you for," he said.

"Someone who's _not_ me," she amended.

"I guess," he sighed. He drew himself into a sitting position and yawned again. He already wished he'd taken his pill sooner and gone to sleep earlier. Pain pressed at his temples and his eyes ached: He caught a ray of sunshine through the window, and winced.

"You hungry?"

"Not really," he replied, throwing his head back and closing his eyes. "I could use a drink, though."

"Oh, really?"

Lincoln cocked his head at her and opened one eye. "Please?"

"That's more like it." She got up and went into the kitchen. Lincoln was starting to doze when she came back. "I hear you snoring," she said.

"No you don't," Lincoln said, taking the glass and downing it in two monster gulps.

"Not now," she said.

She went to her room to get dressed, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He felt jittery and restless, but he wasn't going to take the pill until he had to. He had too much to lose to become a drug addict passed out in a gutter somewhere. He had his mother and his sisters. He had Luna.

Ten minutes after going up the stairs, Luna returned, dressed, and dropped a folded pile of clothes onto the bed for him. "Here," she said, handing him his pill.

"Thanks," he said. When she wasn't looking, he slipped it into his pocket, then, after she helped him dress, into the pocket of his new pants. Mom came down the stairs ten minutes after that. She looked as tired as Lincoln felt. She, Lynn, Lucy, and Leni spent most of the evening at the hospital with Luan. The surgery was a success. The headaches were gone (though her head naturally hurt, since a team of doctors had just been inside of it), and she wasn't feeling nauseous. Lincoln may not have been looking forward to seeing Dr. Lopez, but he was _really_ looking forward to seeing Luan. He missed her. Her jokes were corny and she could be annoying at times, but life just wasn't the same without her. The doctor told mom she'd probably be in the hospital for another week _maybe_ two.

"You guys almost ready?" mom asked as she passed through on her way to the kitchen.

"As we'll ever be," Lincoln said.

"We're ready," Luna said, and nudged Lincoln's side.

Fifteen minutes later, Mr. McBride pulled into the driveway, and mom and Luna got Lincoln outside. Though it was early, the heat was already intense. It occurred to Lincoln for the first time that he would miss the entire summer...if he was lucky. If he wasn't, he'd be this chair forever.

He hoped it was the former. He could stand to lose out on a summer, but not the rest of his life.

From her window, Lana watched as her brother, sister, and mother got into Mr. McBride's car. Her mind flashed back to what she had seen the day before, and a mixture of emotions went through her. Her initial reaction was _gross!_ She thought of telling her mother, but stopped, because she didn't want Lincoln and Luna to get in trouble, and she didn't want to put more on her mother's mind right now. She'd already done enough by cutting her wrists. The more she thought about it, the more she came to realize that this was the way they were coping. They'd all gotten a little closer to one another over the past days and weeks. Lynn with Lucy, her and Leni. She knew it was wrong to kiss your brother like that, but it was also wrong to smash a mirror and cut yourself.

Still, it was weird, and she didn't know if he could keep from telling _someone_.

* * *

They were in Dr. Lopez's waiting room, Lincoln playing a game on his phone and Luna flipping through a magazine. Mom was texting with Luan, who apparently felt much better than she had since she woke up. Mom kept smiling down at her phone, and that made Lincoln happy. She'd put up with a lot of bad stuff over the past three weeks. She deserved good thing.

Lincoln thought of the pill in his pocket. His leg was beginning to ache again, but he could manage. And when he did finally break down and take it, he decided, he would only take half, hopefully just enough to take the edge off.

After twenty minutes, a large woman in black came into the waiting room. "Hi," she said with a big smile, "you must be Lincoln and Luna. I'm Dr. Lopez."

She came over and shook Lincoln's hand, then Luna's. "Do you guy want to come back to my office?"

"Yeah," Luna said. She got up and pushed Lincoln down the hall behind Dr. Lopez. At a door, she stepped aside, and Luna wheeled her brother in, parking his wheelchair in an open corner next to an armchair.

"I knew about your situation, Lincoln," Dr. Lopez said, "so I cleared that spot out specifically for you." She closed the door and crossed to her chair. She sat.

Luna sat in the armchair and unthinkingly took Lincoln's hand in hers.

"I've seen so many Louds this week," Dr. Lopez said, shuffling a stack of papers. "You have a big family."

 _It_ was _bigger,_ Lincoln thought, but didn't speak. He rubbed the top of his leg. It was starting to really hurt.

"I have one brother," Dr. Lopez said. "He's a Marine. We weren't particularly close growing up, which I regret. Are you guys close?"

From what Rita Loud said, Lincoln and Luna had grown very close since the accident, closer even than they were before. Luna was practically caring for her brother 24/7, and even sleeping with him on the fold-out sofa.

"Yeah, we're pretty close," Luna said. "We fight and stuff, but, you know, that's how it goes."

"I'd be surprised if you _didn't_ fight," Dr. Lopez said. "Arguing and fighting among siblings is normal and healthy. For the most part. Knocking your sister's teeth out because she took the last juice box probably _isn't_ healthy."

Luna couldn't help but chuckle. Lincoln smiled too.

"What exactly happened to your leg, Lincoln?"

"Well," he said, feeling put-on-the-spot, "it got pinned under the seat." He explained, telling her about the broken bones and nerve damage. She listened quietly, nodding here and there.

She sighed when he was done. "That's pretty rough. How does it feel?"

Lincoln shrugged. "It kind of hurts now and then." Right now it was really hurting. He rubbed the top of it, and Luna squeezed his hand.

Dr. Lopez noticed.

"Being as close as you are as a family, I imagine what happened really traumatized you."

Lincoln and Luna both looked down, the atmosphere suddenly heavy. Luna was the first one who spoke. "Yeah, it's been hard. I really miss my dad and my sisters. Lincoln too."

The boy nodded.

"Of course. How would you say you're taking it?"

Luna took a deep breath. "Normal, I guess. I don't really know how you're supposed to be when you lose a bunch of people you love. I mean, I don't want to kill myself or anything, but..."

Dr. Lopez looked at Lincoln. "You?"

Lincoln shrugged. "The same. Pretty much."

Dr. Lopez nodded. "Would you say you and your sister have become closer since the accident?"

"Yeah," Lincoln said at length. "She's been there for me this whole time. She's kind of like my nanny. 'Luna, get this' 'Luna, get that.'"

Luna laughed. "Only he doesn't say it like this, because he knows I'd whack him in the leg."

Lincoln smiled and nudged his sister's arm. Dr. Lopez smiled, nodded, and watched their body language.

"Did you...start getting closer immediately after?" she asked.

Luna shrugged. "I guess. I mean...we were both in the hospital, like, two doors down from each other...and that first night..." she shook her head and took a deep breath. Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "I was so messed up, you know?" Her voice was husky. "I didn't want to be alone, so I went to Linc's room and stayed there. Then when they discharged me...I couldn't leave him all by himself. Not knowing he was feeling what I felt."

Dr. Lopez nodded and handed Luna a box of tissues. The girl took it, yanked one out, and wiped her eyes.

"I can imagine. It must have been...chaotic. Right after the accident."

"It was," Luna said. "My dad and two of my sisters were dead, my other sister, Luan, was in the ICU and, I figured, _going_ to die...it was a nightmare."

She hung her head and Lincoln put a consoling hand on her shoulder.

"You felt the same way, Lincoln?"

"I really didn't feel anything at first," he said. "I went right into surgery and they had me on drugs. I remember mom telling me...about dad and all...but I couldn't really...like...get it?"

"Understandable," Dr. Lopez said. "Obviously you're your sister's rock and she's yours. That's good. In times like these, we need someone to lean on. Your mother tells me Lynn and Lucy have gotten closer."

Lincoln nodded. "Yeah, they kinda have, I guess."

"Have either of you been having nightmares?"

"I've had a couple," Luna admitted.

"I really don't dream," Lincoln said. "My pills really knock me out."

"What have your dreams been about, Luna?"

The girl shrugged. "The accident. I had one where Lincoln died. That was scary."

"I bet," Dr. Lopez said. "You haven't had _any_ , Lincoln?"

"I can only remember one," he said. "I was alone in the van. Trapped." He shuddered. "But then I woke up and Luna was next to me, and it was okay."

"You're both afraid of losing each other, aren't you?"

"I guess," Luna said. "I mean, I'm afraid of losing _any_ of my siblings. I've already lost two and almost lost two more. That's enough for one lifetime."

Lincoln nodded. "Yeah. I guess I'm afraid of losing any more too."

"It's a tough time, but you're helping each other through. You both seem to be adjusting well. And I think your relationship has something to do with that. In fact, I think you could probably help each other along better than I could help you. I just want to make sure that you don't go _overboard_. Like, Luna, do you feel anxious when you're not around Lincoln?"

Luna started to say no, but that was a lie. She _did_ feel anxious the few times she hadn't been around him. "Kind of," she said.

"More so than when you're not around your other siblings?"

"Yeah," Luna said grudgingly.

"Lincoln?"

Something told Lincoln to lie, but Luna specifically told him to be honest "So she can really help us." He nodded. "Yeah."

"I just don't want either of you to become so dependent on the other that you can't function apart. It's been almost a month since the accident and from what your mother – and you yourselves – have told me, you've barely been away from one another. Becoming dependent on something isn't a conscious decision, and it doesn't happen overnight. It happens so gradually that we don't realize it's happening. We become so used to something that when we don't have it, we freak out. I had a patient once who had a little dog. He broke his back – the patient, not the dog – and he spent something like a year at home with only this little dog to keep him company. When he went back to work, he became so anxious because he didn't have his dog, that he would call the house and leave voice mails for the dog, and he'd come home on his lunch break, and one time even tried to bring the dog to work with him. When he couldn't be around the dog, he would shake and he could barely function. There's nothing wrong with having a dog and loving it, but there's a problem when you can't go out to the store without going into full-blown withdraws."

Lincoln and Luna both nodded. They were still holding hands and not looking at her.

"I just think maybe you should spend some time apart, that's all. Lincoln, I'm sure Leni or Lisa would like to spend some time with you, and ditto you, Luna. I don't want you to think I'm being down on your relationship, I'm not, I just don't want to see you wind up like that man with the dog. He really suffered for a long time."

"Yeah," Lincoln said listlessly.

"I understand," Luna added.

Before they left, Dr. Lopez called Rita into her office. "Lincoln and Luna are clinging to one another for security, I think. Their relationship, being there for one another from right after the accident to now, has helped them to adjust probably better than any of the others. I just fear that they will become dependent upon one another and develop an unhealthy relationship. I've suggested that they spend some time apart. Interact or play or hang out with their other siblings. I don't want you to force the matter. That could potentially make things worse. Drop hints. Tell Lincoln that Leni would like to see him, and encourage the other siblings to try and make time for them."

Rita rubbed her forehead. "Alright," she said. She was so mentally and emotionally drained she could barely keep her mind straight.

"I want to see them again on August 1. Separately."

"Okay."

"I think we're getting there, Mrs. Loud. I really do."

She did not, however, voice her suspicions.

* * *

They were in the backyard, covered in dirt and looking for grasshoppers. Leni found one, plucked it up, and made a face when it spit on her thumb. "Gross," she said, "I hate grasshopper spit."

Lana knelt over a patch of tall grass and scanned it, seeing nothing. As if to mock her, one jumped out and bounced away.

She sighed. Her mind was on other matters.

When she first suggested to Leni that they look for grasshoppers, she knew, vaguely, that she meant to bring up Lincoln and Luna; for the past twenty minutes, she'd been debating with herself whether she should or not. Leni was the oldest now, and implicitly "in charge" even if she was no Lori. If you can't take something to mom, you take it to Leni. At least that's what it was like with Lori. This kind of thing, though...should she even bother?

"Leni?"

"Yeah?" Leni knelt next to her. "You got one?"

Lana shook her head. "I...can you keep a secret?"

"I'm not really good at keeping secrets," Leni said.

"Please? I need to talk to someone."

Leni noticed the pleading in her sister's eyes. "Alright," she said, "I promise."

Lana sighed and tried to fumble for a way to put it. "Yesterday," she said, "I saw...Luna kissing Lincoln."

Leni's brow furrowed. Kissing him? So? They all kissed Lincoln. He was their only brother, after all, and they loved him. Then it dawned on her. "You mean, like... _kiss_ kissing?"

Lana nodded. "Like boyfriends and girlfriends. She was touching him too. Between his legs."

Instinctively, Leni recoiled. She opened her mouth, but didn't know what to say. "Did...did he look like she was...like...did he look like she was forcing him?"

Lana shook her head. "No. He looked like he was enjoying it."

Leni shuddered. The thought of her sister touching her brother like that, and him _liking_ it, sent a shiver down her spine.

"I was going to tell mom, but I don't want them to get in trouble. Should I?"

"No," Leni blurted. Then: "I'll take care of it."


	16. Bad Love

Lynn opened a box of Cheese Nips and then went to open the foil bag inside. It split down the side, and crackers spilled out. _Goddamn it!_ She pulled back to throw the box across the kitchen but stopped herself. She remembered Dr. Lopez's words: _When I realized I was getting angry, I would stop, take ten deep breaths, and ask myself: Is my anger justified?_

Lynn counted to ten, took three deep breaths, and asked herself _Is my anger justified?_

Looking at the torn package, she concluded that it wasn't. It was annoying (because the little foil pouch _always_ ripped), but not something to get angry about. She imagined watching someone else do what she was about to do, and thought, _I'd look like a total asshole._ That thought scared her. She didn't want to look like an asshole. She didn't want to _be_ an asshole.

Feeling a hot rush of shame, she dumped some of the crackers into a bowl and went into the living room just as the front door opened, and mom lifted the front of Lincoln's wheelchair over the threshold.

"Hey, guys," Lynn said, happy that none of them had been present to witness her near tantrum, "how do your heads feel after being shrunk?"

"Tired" Luna said.

"Yeah," Lincoln said. "I could use a nap."

"Oh," mom said to Luna, "maybe you and Lynn can do something while Lincoln's asleep."

Luna started to protest, but immediately closed her mouth. _Dr. Lopez._ Dr. Lopez must have told mom to have her and Lincoln spend time apart. Luna felt betrayed. And trapped. If she made a stink, it would look bad.

"Sure," she said, "that'd be great."

"Me and Lucy were just hanging out," Lynn said, "but if you wanna join, cool. Haven't seen too much of you lately."

Stealing a look at Lincoln, who silently nodded, Luna followed her sister upstairs, already starting to feel the first twangs of anxiety.

"Do you want that nap, honey?" mom asked.

"Yeah," Lincoln said. He took half of his pill and while it wasn't as good as a whole one, the effects, combined with his leftover grogginess from this morning, made him tired.

"Alright, just let me set your bed up."

Mom picked up the cushions, tossed them aside, and pulled out the bed. As she was making it, Leni and Lana came in from the kitchen.

"Hey, guys," Lincoln said.

"Oh, hey, Linc," Leni said, seeming to go out of her way to avoid looking at him. "Is Luna around?" she asked mom, and for some reason Lincoln felt a rise of paranoia.

"She just went upstairs with Lynn," mom said.

"Okay, thanks."

Leni and Lana climbed the stairs, neither one looking at Lincoln.

"Alright," mom said, coming over. She helped him out of his wheelchair and onto the mattress, laying him back gently, and propping his leg up with a pillow. She threw a blanket over him and sat down, stroking his face. "I love you," she said, and kissed his forehead.

"I love you too," he said.

For a long time he lay awake, trying to figure out why he was so worried. It wasn't strange for Leni to want to see Luna, right? Of course not. He was just antsy. Like Luna, he inferred that Dr. Lopez must have suggested to her that they spend time apart. He understood what Dr. Lopez was driving at (the gnawing anxiety in his chest proof positive that she was right), but he still didn't like being away from Luna.

 _Treat her like the pill. Both are good. Too much of either isn't._

Well, maybe that was true for the pill, but for Luna? Luna was good and pure and beautiful and...

...so was the high he felt from the pill.

He thought back to the story Dr. Lopez told them about the man and his dog. He didn't want to sweat and break out in hives when he wasn't around Luna, because he couldn't feasibly be around her all day every day.

With these thoughts in his mind, he fell into a thin, troubled sleep.

* * *

 _You can do this_ , Leni told herself. She was sitting on her bed, knitting...something (or nothing), her fingers flying and her stomach sick. Knitting helped when she was stressed: She could put her body on autopilot and let her mind roam free. It was the monotony of the task that soothed her. Once you've done it enough, you do it automatically.

She was afraid to confront Luna with what Lana had told her. She didn't like confrontation, and she dreaded causing an argument and putting further strain on herself and her siblings (and her mother). She wasn't one to meddle. A little, yes, but she usually only did so in Lori's footsteps. Lori wasn't here, and she was the oldest. It fell to her to deal with this, but how? And what exactly was she _dealing_ with? Her main concern was that Luna was taking advantage of Lincoln. He was sweet and kind-hearted and had trouble saying no sometimes (and other times he had trouble keeping no no and not turning it into yes). She doubted Luna would do something like that (and Lana said he looked like he was "enjoying" it), but she had to be sure; with something like this, there was no room for assumptions.

And if it _was_ consensual? What then?

She didn't know. You were, like, born with the knowledge that someone was a family member and you didn't date them. She wasn't the smartest girl in the world, but she knew that, and she knew that the hardest things to explain are sometimes the most basic. All she could really say is _"That's gross, he's your brother."_ Then what? Should she tell her to stay away from Lincoln? But if Lincoln liked her, and she liked Lincoln, they would both be mad at her, and, when you got down to it, what was the point? No one was getting hurt, right? She wouldn't be upset if Lincoln was kissing Ronnie Anne of if Luna was kissing some boy, would she? No, she'd be happy for them. While she couldn't really say she was happy they were kissing each other, did she really have any place to be angry about it?

 _What would Lori do?_

She suddenly felt her sister's absence so acutely that she shuddered. Lori would know how to handle this. She was good at that kind of thing. Leni wasn't. She was too absent minded, too weak-willed.

That had to change. She was the oldest now. She had to be more forceful. She had to step up and be the leader.

She sighed, threw down her knitting, and went into the hall. She heard Luna's guitar. She took a deep breath, went to Lynn's door, and poked her head in. Luna was sitting on the edge of Lynn's bed. Lynn lay in the middle, nodding her head and tossing a tennis ball into the air. Lucy was sitting on the floor next to Luna's feet.

"Luna," Leni said, trying to put a slight edge in her voice, "can I talk to you?"

Luna looked up and nodded. "Sure." She got up and handed her guitar to Lynn. "Here, you try."

Lynn sat up with an eager smile on her face and started strumming. It sounded awful. Lucy plugged her ears, and Lynn gently kicked her in the back. "You know you like it, spooooooky," she sang.

Luna entered the room first, and Leni followed, so nervous her knees were shaking. She shut the door and leaned against it. "What's up?" Luna asked.

Leni took a deep breath. "L...one of our sisters says she saw you kissing Lincoln yesterday. And touching him between his legs."

Luna's face dropped, but she quickly recovered. "Who said that?"

"It doesn't matter," Leni said. "Did it happen?"

Luna fumbled for a response. Should she deny it? Should she come clean and tell the truth?

Leni waited, her arms crossed and an intensity in her eyes that Luna had never seen before. It actually kind of scared her.

"Yeah," Luna said, her mouth dry. "It happened."

Leni inhaled deeply through her nostrils. "Did _he_ want it to happen?"

Luna blinked. "What? Like...did I rape him?"

Leni didn't speak.

"Yeah, he wanted it to happen. We're..." she didn't know what to say. A couple? Boyfriend and girlfriend? Neither of those sounded right. "...together."

Leni sighed. She started to say something, but didn't. "Luna, he's your brother," she finally said. It was all she had. All she could think of.

"I know," Luna said, "but he's more than that. I love him."

"Do you realize how messed up that is?"

"Maybe to you," Luna said sharply, "and maybe to everyone else, but to me? I don't expect you to understand. When I look at him, I see...a caring, beautiful, sensitive, considerate guy. I see...I see what I want in life and a partner. Okay, he's my brother. So what? I've lost sleep over that but I'm done. It is what it is and if you can't get that, I'm sorry."

She started past, but Leni stopped her. "Look, if you guys feel that way...I'm not going to stop you. I love both of you and I want what's best for you, but do you think being with your _brother_ is best for you? Or him?"

Luna pulled away and stormed out into the hall. Leni looked after her, damning herself for botching it like that. Would Lori have bungled it that way?

In her room, Luna sat on her bed and crossed her arms. It was strange being in here for longer than it took to get dressed or grab something. She wanted to go downstairs and see Lincoln, even if he was asleep and all she could do was look at him.

Leni's voice rang through her head. _He's your brother_.

Well, she didn't _choose_ to fall in love with him. It's not like there was a big red button with FALL IN LOVE WITH LINCOLN printed on it that she saw, thought "alright!", and pushed. It just happened. Love is a funny thing. True love. You can see the most beautiful woman with the ugliest dude (or vice versa) and think "What does he (or her) see in him (or her)?" Then you feel _real_ love and you know. Looks have nothing to do with it. Neither do morals or social status or anything like that. That's all superficial. Love is like finding the missing piece of your soul. Maybe that piece is in a guy who weighs five hundred pounds, maybe it's in a woman who looks like a horse...and maybe it's in your brother.

If she had a say in the matter, it wouldn't have been in her brother, but it was, and that was that.

* * *

Lincoln passed the rest of the day with Lucy and Lynn, who came down with his video game console. Neither one particularly liked video games, and he supposed his mother put them up to it, but it _was_ nice spending time with them. He still missed Luna, though.

At dinner, a palpable tension hung over the table. Leni ate in silence, and once Lincoln caught Luna glaring at her. Okay, maybe it was exactly a _glare_ , but it was close enough. When Luna turned and saw him watching her, a sunny smile spread across her face, and he smiled back.

At bedtime, she crawled in next to him and rested her head against his chest. He was so glad to have her in his arms that he could barely speak.

Upstairs, Leni tossed and turned. She felt bad about the argument and didn't like that Luna was mad at her, but she couldn't back down. That's not what the oldest did. If you backed down, you showed weakness. Leni didn't want to look weak in front of her siblings.

She thought of Lori, and the image of her hanging out the passenger window flashed across her mind.

 _Happy thoughts, happy thoughts, happy thoughts_.

She called up a memory of her and Lori on a sandy beach. Lori was ten and Leni was nine. She couldn't remember where they were. It was hot, though, and the sound the surf made as it crashed on the shore was so loud that you could barely hear over it. They were making a sandcastle, and Leni was getting frustrated because the tower she was working on kept crumbling.

"No, Leni," Lori piped, "like _this_."

Lori showed her, and Leni tried again. Her tower stood strong. "Wow!" Leni breathed. "Thank you!"

"It's what big sisters are for," Lori smiled, and nudged Leni with her shoulder. Tears streamed down Leni's face, but they were tears of joy, and when she dreamed, they were dreams of joy.


	17. Time

The coming weeks were not easy ones. Lincoln saw the doctor on July 17. His leg was healing well enough that he could start physical therapy. His first session was on the 19th. His therapist was a big, bald black man with muscular arms named James. That first session focused mainly on walking with the use of crutches, as the leg was still in a cast. When the hour and a half was up, Lincoln was covered in sweat and his leg ached, but he could "walk" for short spurts, which made him happy, though he knew it was only a matter of time before he would be able to climb the stairs, and be expected to sleep in his own bed...away from Luna.

Leni, Lynn, Lucy, Lana, and Lisa all saw Dr. Lopez on the 16th and 17th. She was pleased with the progress that they were making, especially Lynn and Leni. Leni reported only two nightmares, and Lynn said she had had no outbursts. Lisa was making _some_ progress, but not as much as Dr. Lopez liked.

"Detachment isn't something I normally struggle with," Lisa explained, "but in this case, I'm finding it hard."

"Have you ever ridden a bike before, Lisa?"

"Yes," Lisa said, "at one point I did, though I quickly lost interest."

"Alright," Dr. Lopez said. "I want you to get ahold of a bike and ride it."

"How is that going to help my PTSD?"

"Baby steps," Dr. Lopez said.

"Well, there _is_..." Lisa started, then stopped, mentally kicking herself.

"What?"

It wasn't _that_ bad. It wasn't like it was actually a motor vehicle. "Lola and Lana have – had on Lola's part – a battery powered Jeep."

Dr. Lopez smiled. "Even better. I want you to ride it around your backyard."

"I still don't see how that will help. There's quite a difference between a plastic Jeep that goes three miles an hour max and a two ton death machine capable of reaching over a hundred miles an hour."

"Trust me."

That afternoon, Lisa stood before the Jeep, her palms sweaty and her knees shaking. "It's all tuned up," Lana said. "Safe as can be."

"That's good to know," Lisa said. She made no move to get it.

"Here," Lana said, "how about I drive and you ride shotgun?"

Lana jumped behind the wheel. "Come on."

Nodding, Lisa climbed in the way you would a deep, murky, vat of acid. She clicked on her seatbelt and held on. When Lana punched the gas, Lisa stiffened. "Slow down!"

"We're only going two miles an hour," Lana said. "Relax."

Flashbacks from the accident battered her. She squeezed her eyes closed and prayed to a God she didn't believe in. When she opened her eyes, they hadn't crashed, and she felt her tension lessen. The wind against her face _did_ feel good.

Less than a week later, she was driving herself, doing long, lazy circles around the backyard. She drove with extreme caution, slow enough that Lana could walk beside her, but it was something, right? Baby steps, as Dr. Lopez put it. Driving the Jeep did Lisa a world of good. She dreamed of the accident less, and when she got into the car, the _real_ car, she didn't feel overwhelming terror – just a comparatively slight unease.

Luan recovered enough from the surgery that she was discharged from the hospital on the 22nd, almost a month after the accident. She was glad to be home, but the first few nights were strange, and she had trouble sleeping. Luna slept downstairs with Lincoln, but by now she was used to not having a roomie, though she had been kind of looking forward to long chats into the night.

With their time sleeping in the same bed drawing to a close – and both of them knowing it – Lincoln and Luna would lie awake talking, her in his arms. She told him about the confrontation with Leni, which explained why she had been so distant from both him and Luna. On the 23rd, while Luna was showering, Lincoln forced himself out of his wheelchair and, using his crutches, ambled outside and plucked one of the many wild flowers that grew up along the side of the house. When she came down, he gave it to her. "For you, my wild flower," he said.

He wrote her notes with little hearts on them, and she wrote him notes back. They hid them well. No one found one. It was getting harder and harder not to show his full feelings for Luna. When they sat on the couch (which he could do for short periods), they couldn't hold each other the way they wanted. He wanted his arm around her shoulder and his cheek against hers, but they had to be careful. They spent time apart, even though both wanted to be only with the other. They took walks to the park (well, Luna walked, Lincoln rode), and they would spend an hour or so lying in the grass and looking at the clouds, their fingers intertwined. They were so happy and in love that they didn't care who – if anyone – saw them. Lincoln cherished those afternoons in the park with his sister. Under the shade of an oak tree, away from prying eyes, they could hold and kiss each other all the wanted. Neither thought of the future. For them, only the present mattered, having and holding one another in the here and now. Ten years from now, ten _days_ from now, wasn't important. They both knew from hard personal experience that life was a short, fragile thing, and worrying about the future – or the past – only took time away from enjoying the now.

Leni watched her brother and her sister, the way they were constantly smiling and touching one another. She felt bad for what she'd said to Luna. _Do you realize how messed up that is?_ They were happy and loved each other. That's all that mattered. Even if she thought it was a little gross – and she still kind of did – at least they were content. One night after dinner, she called Luna into her room.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I was wrong to say what I did. You and Lincy look so happy, and I don't want to mess that up. I love you guys. I'm just...I want to be a good big sister."

"You _are_ a good big sister," Luna said.

"I don't feel like it. I never _had_ to be a big sister. Not like Lori. She was always the one in charge and the one everyone went to. I'm just dumb old Leni."

"You're not dumb," Luna said. They were sitting side-by-side on Leni's bed, and Luna put her arm around her sister's shoulder. "You're doing a lot better job than me. I don't think I could do it at all."

"Thanks, but I still feel bad. If being together makes you guys happy, okay."

"Thanks, sis," Luna said, and they hugged.

On the 27th, Lincoln climbed the stairs for the first time at his mother's insistence. "Now you can move back into your room," she said encouragingly.

"Yay," he said.

He didn't know – and neither did Luna – that she had been coming down in the night, every so often, to watch them. The way they clung to each other melted her heart, but it also worried her. Dr. Lopez cautioned her about their developing an "unhealthy relationship." What spurred these nightly visits was an idle memory: One morning she nearly tripped on Luna's underwear in the living room. She was so caught up in other things that she didn't really take note of it until one of the long, lonely nights she lay awake in bed, worrying about each of her children. Why were they there? She didn't just leave her clothes lying around the living room. Were...? No, that was unthinkable. Nevertheless, she got up and went downstairs. Lincoln was holding Luna in his arms, his face buried in the back of her head. With crossed arms, Rita watched them, unsure of how to feel. It was cute...but was it innocent?

Of course it was! She felt disgusted with herself for even _considering_ such a thing. Still, every other night or so, she would creep down the stairs, telling herself that she was only checking in on them the way she had taken to checking in on her other children, but in the back of her mind, she always expected to see something that she might not want to see, to learn something she might not want to learn.

When Lincoln started sleeping in his own room again, she would check on him (and Luna). More often than not, they were both awake and restless. On July 30, as she herself struggled to sleep, she heard a door creak surreptitiously open, then the sound of padded footfalls. Another door opened. Shut. She lay awake for a long time, listening with bated breath. It was nothing, she decided, just her sleep-deprived nerves. Someone got up to use the bathroom. That was all. Or to get a snack from the kitchen. Certainly it wasn't what she was thinking, what she _hated_ herself for thinking. Those poor children have been through so much, and here was there mother conjuring awful images in her head.

Still, her mind turned to what Dr. Lopez had said about them developing an unhealthy relationship. She didn't mean... _that_ , though, right?

Rita didn't think she did. You'd have to have something wrong with you to think that. But _what if?_

Rita didn't know the answer to that, and she didn't want to.

She was overthinking the matter.

Meanwhile, in Lincoln's room, her son and daughter clung to each other.

Naked.


	18. It All Comes Out

Lincoln woke early on the morning of August 1st to a hot, throbbing ache in his leg. The pain was so great that he hissed over clenched teeth and cried out when he moved. He'd been taking only half a pill at a time since his visit with Dr. Lopez, and while it was enough to take the edge off the pain, it wasn't enough to stop it completely: Mornings were always the worst.

He took the remaining half from his nightstand and took it with a mouthful of old, warm water, grimacing at the slimy taste. He laid back against his pillow and fought to catch his breath. Thin, bluish light touched the walls, illuminating – but not banishing – the shadows. He glanced over at the clock, and saw that it was 5:28. His appointment with Dr. Lopez was at 9:00. Luna's was at 8:30. That meant they'd have to leave the house just before eight, giving him at least an hour and a half of sleep. Only, he knew he would not fall back asleep before then. In the old days, drifting off came easy. Now, without Luna, it came only reluctantly, and after many hours.

Resigned to his fate, he picked up his phone and opened it. He had a text from Luna, sent at 3:28. It was a heart, which made him smile. He sent one back. A minute later, she texted back: "U up?"

"No Im sleep texting," he replied.

"Hahaha very funny luan."

"What r u doing up?"

"Ive been up. Couldnt sleep."

This was just as hard on her as it was on him. If anything, Dr. Lopez was right about becoming dependent on each other. He'd told Luna as much, and while she wasn't particularly gung-ho, she seemed to understand. Since going back to their rooms, they had only slept together once, and even then they were so paranoid about being caught that they really only dozed. It was a warm, peaceful doze, at least, and not the cold, fitful sleep that they suffered each lonely night.

"U want breakfast?" Luna texted.

"Its a date," Lincoln replied. He sat his phone down and struggled into a sitting position, his leg hurting. He reached for his crutches and stood, a trail of agony shooting up his hip. He ambled to the door and opened it. Luna was there, startling him. She kissed him. "Morning, Linc," she chirruped.

"Good morning," he said, bemused. "How long have you been out here."

"Oh, just all night."

Lincoln raised an eyebrow. "Like, two minutes," she confessed. "It takes you forever to get going."

"Uh, hello, busted leg," Lincoln said, moving his bad leg and successfully hiding the pain.

"You're full of excuses, bro," Luna said, shaking her head. "It's sad."

Lincoln grinned. "Shut up."

Downstairs, Lincoln sat heavily at the kitchen table and propped his crutches against it. Luna rummaged in the cabinets, then the fridge. "I'm thinking eggs, toast, and bacon. Sound good to you, bro?"

Lincoln's stomach rumbled.

"I'll take that as a yes."

She put a pan on the oven, then stopped. "Should I make enough for everyone? It's pretty early."

"It'll probably be cold by the time they come down."

"Yeah," she said. "I'll just make them breakfast later."

In twenty minutes, Luna sat a plate in front of Lincoln and kissed his neck. "Here you go, love."

He turned and kissed her lips. "Thank you."

"You're welcome," she said, and kissed him back.

Setting her own plate down, she sat and started eating. "Not bad," she said around a mouthful of food.

Lincoln cut a piece of egg with his fork and stuck it into his mouth. ""It's alright," he said, and grinned, "but don't quit your day job."

"Yeah?" She snatched his plate away and slid it across the table, out of reach. Lincoln tried anyway, but she slapped his hand.

"Hey!"

"You can eat cereal," she said. "Unless you say sorry."

Lincoln cocked an eyebrow at her. "Not going to happen."

"Alright," Luna said. She took a bite of egg and made an exaggerated _mmmmm_ sound. "It's _so_ good."

Lincoln crossed his arms.

"I'm practically cumming over here."

"I'm not hungry anyway," Lincoln said, but his traitorous stomach rumbled.

"You're full of it, bro," Luna said. Then she glanced at his breakfast. "Actually, you're not."

Lincoln sighed. "I'm sorry, Luna, now can I have my breakfast back?"

"Hm," Luna said, cocking her head. "I don't know. You really hurt my feelings."

"Please, I'm starving."

"I think you need to go a little further."

Lincoln sighed again. "Alright. Luna, I am sorry. Your food is the best thing I've ever tasted and I am honored to eat it."

"And?"

Lincoln blinked. And what?

"And you're the best musician."

"Alright," Luna said, and slid his plate back across the table. She smiled. "Love you."

"Love you too," he said, and started eating. He looked up at his sister and grinned.

"What?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

"No, it's something alright."

Should he say it?

Luna looked at him expectantly.

"I was just thinking how I'd rather be eating someone else's cooking right now."

Luna pursed her lips and raised her fist.

"Luna, don't punch your brother," mom said, coming into the kitchen. She was wore slippers and a pink robe. Her hair was messed and dark bags hung under her eyes.

"We were just playing," Lincoln said.

Without another word, mom shuffled to the coffeemaker and started brewing a pot. She yawned. "How'd you guys sleep last night?"

"Alright," Luna lied.

"Like a baby," Lincoln said, intentionally one-upping his sister's lie.

"That's nice," mom said, yawning. "So did I."

"I really woke up and smelled the coffee," Luan said as she came in. "And the bacon and eggs. Where is it?"

"I gotta make more," Luna said, shoveling a bit of egg into her mouth. "I didn't think you guys would be up this early."

Luan shrugged. "I have trouble sleeping."

Luna knew. Luan was almost as bad as she was. She tossed, turned, and sighed with frustration as sleep eluded her. She seemed to function well enough, though. "I think the hit to the head knocked something loose – or into place –" she said during one of their long, nightly chats, her lying in her bed, Luna lying in hers. "Dr. Lopez said I should count sheep but that gets boring."

"That's kind of the point," Luna had pointed out.

"Is everyone else up?" Luna asked now.

"Leni is. I don't know about everyone else."

"Whatever," Luna said, "I'm making breakfast for everyone, and if it gets cold, it gets cold."

The coffee was done. Rita poured a cup and drank it as she leaned against the counter. Her eyes and head ached. She had another dream about Lynn last night, and after she woke up, she couldn't get back to sleep. Sleep? What was _that?_

"When you're done, I want you and Lincoln to get ready," Rita said. She wondered again if she should bring up the dark suspicions roiling in the back of her mind.

No. She shouldn't.

She should forget the whole thing.

* * *

At 8:00am sharp, while Luna was scanning an old magazine, Dr. Lopez came into the waiting room. "Hey!" she said happily, and Luna looked up. "It's good to see you guys again."

"Hey, doc," Luna said, setting her magazine on the empty chair next to her and getting up.

"How've you been?" Dr. Lopez asked as they started to her office.

"Alright," Luna said. In the office, she sat and Dr. Lopez closed the door.

The doctor took her seat and sighed. "Your sisters are doing good, huh? Have they been practicing what I've taught them at home?"

"Yeah, they have," Luna said. "Lisa's driving the Jeep on the sidewalk now, alone, and every once in a while I'll see Lynn stop and, like she's counting, you know?

Dr. Lopez smiled and nodded. "That's great. They're really coming along, and it makes me so happy. I haven't really had the chance to work with you or Lincoln yet, though. I mean, beyond our first meeting. How are you adjusting?"

Luna shrugged. She thought she was doing well. The pain in her chest was still fresh and deep, but she wasn't sad. In fact, she grew a little happier each day, which kind of bothered her. Her father and sisters had been in the ground for barely a month and a half, and she wasn't still beside herself like mom. She said as much, and Dr. Lopez nodded.

"That's a normal reaction when you're recovering from grief. You start feeling better, then it just seems so _wrong_. You want to punish yourself by pushing your face right back into the darkness."

That's pretty much how Luna felt. "But it really doesn't work."

"Pushing your face back into the grief?"

"Yeah. I just don't feel it the way I did right after it happened."

"And that's a good thing. You're healing. There's no reason to beat yourself up about it. You wouldn't rip an old wound on your arm open because it's healing, would you?"

"No," Luna said, "but this is different."

"Yes and no," Dr. Lopez countered. "It was a traumatic experience and you're coming back. You can always remember your family and hold them close to your heart, but it does no good to intentionally make yourself grieve."

"I know that," Luna said, "it just makes me feel a little bad, that's all. Otherwise I think I'm good."

"No more nightmares?"

Luna paused. She'd had a couple since she and Lincoln started sleeping apart. They all focused on her being alone and looking for him, stumbling through dark, maze-like passageways. "Not really," she said.

"That's good. How are things with your brother?"

"Good. He's back in his room and I'm back in mine."

Dr. Lopez nodded. "The last time you were here, I didn't really get a chance to talk to you about your relationship with him, and vice versa. Can you tell me about it? I mean, through the years. Your mother says that you've always been closer to him than maybe the other girls."

"Yeah," Luna said. "I mean, I wanted a baby brother when I was little, so when he came along, I was pretty stoked." She grinned at the memory. "I've always felt a special connection with him because of that, you know? I, like...made it my mission to really be a big sister. Everyone else...I mean, I just feel like they did it, but they weren't actually, you know, _rooting_ for it to happen."

"I understand that," Dr. Lopez said. "You actually wanted a little brother and they maybe necessarily didn't."

"Yeah."

"So you've always been his protector and mentor, so to speak?"

Luna thought for a second. "Kind of. I mean, when you have as many siblings as I do, it's kind of hard to really get any one-on-one time with any of them. Everyone's always together, or off doing their own thing, or you just want to be alone."

"I can imagine with that must stimuli, getting privacy must be a pretty big deal."

"Yeah, it is."

"But you've always been there for him."

Luna nodded.

"And what do you think of him? As a person?"

"He's great," Luna said, unable to suppress a smile. "He's really caring. And considerate. He's the kind of guy who'll give you the shirt off his back and do anything for you. He's sweet, he's brave, he's smart...he's the best." Luna looked away. She could feel the dreamy smile on her face, but she couldn't stop it.

"You really love him," Dr. Lopez said.

"Yeah."

"...as more than a brother?"

"Y..." Luna froze. For a moment her vocal cords were locked. "No!" she finally spat, still not looking up. She was certain Dr. Lopez would see the lie in her face.

"Luna..."

Luna looked at her feet.

"Luna...please look at me."

Luna swallowed and looked up.

"You're in love with Lincoln, aren't you?"

She didn't know what to say, what to do. Her heart was racing and she felt like a trapped animal.

"You look like a doe in the headlights, Luna. You're in love with him."

"Yes," she finally sighed, still unable to make eye contact. "I am."

Dr. Lopez nodded. "And is he in love with you?"

"Yeah," Luna said. "I mean, I think he is. He _says_ he is."

"Luna..." Dr. Lopez started, then stopped. "Let me go get Lincoln so I can talk to you together."

She got up and left, and Luna put her hands in her face. She was shaky and her stomach hurt. She shouldn't have told. She should have lied.

A few minutes later, Lincoln hobbled into the room and sat next to her. He looked at her, noticed and expression on her face, and put his hand on her shoulder. "You okay?"

She nodded.

"So," Dr. Lopez said, sitting, "Luna told me about...you."

Lincoln's brow furrowed. Me? "What did she tell you about me?"

"No, I mean...she told me about the both of you. Being in love."

Lincoln's heart dropped, and he turned to look at his sister.

"When did you realize you were in love?"

Lincoln took Luna's hand and squeezed it. She looked up at him and smiled. His heart beat faster.

"After the funeral," Lincoln said. "That night."

"What happened?"

"We kissed," Lincoln said. It wasn't a lie. They _did_ kiss.

"Anything else?"

"No." Okay, _that_ was a lie.

"And you've been...together ever since?"

Luna nodded. "Yeah." She smiled and pulled Lincoln's hand to her heart. "Inseparable."

"We've been spending some time apart like you said," Lincoln hastened to add, "but I guess that point's moot."

"Pretty much," Dr. Lopez said. "I had my suspicions after our first meeting. You reminded me more of a couple than siblings."

"Is it that obvious?" Lincoln asked.

"Of course it is," Luna said.

"It's pretty obvious to me," Dr. Lopez said. "I don't know if it would be quite as obvious to your family, as this is something that they might not readily suspect. What are some of the things you love about each other? What attracts you?"

"Well," Luna said, "what I told you earlier. He's sweet, kind, caring, loving...everything you can hope for."

Lincoln blushed, and she leaned into him.

"I love her personality," he said at length. "She's the same things she says I am. She's also so...I don't know...carefree? Like a free spirit. I really like that about her." She lifted his hands to her lips and kissed it.

Dr. Lopez couldn't help but be touched. Given the nature of her work, however, it was up to her to cast doubt on it. "Has it occurred to either of you that the emotions you're feeling for each other might be misplaced? After the accident, each one of you felt a surge of love for your family. Losing three members really put things into perspective and...intensified your feelings. Don't you think it's possible that with the two of you those feelings were...mixed up, leading you to mistake strong familial love as being _in_ love?"

"I had a thought kind of like that," Luna said, and Lincoln nodded. "But we talked about it, and we don't think that's it." They looked at each other and smiled. "And if it is, we're happy where we are."

"Well, if that's the case, I'm happy for you," Dr. Lopez said. "But have either of you considered what kind of future your relationship has? How your family will take it? You'll never be able to marry, you won't be able to have children (you could, but you shouldn't, owing to the high likelihood of birth defects), you'll never be able to live openly – truly openly – without ridicule. I mean, where do you see yourselves in five years? Ten?"

Luna shrugged. "Playing music," she said, then looked at her brother. "With Lincoln by my side."

Lincoln grinned. "I see myself with Luna. Forever."

Dr. Lopez rubbed her chin. They were not going to be easily dissuaded. These types of relationships did develop between close family members from time-to-time. Sons and mothers, brothers and sisters, fathers and daughters. In her opinion, once an adult made a decision, as it were, they should be left alone. If someone fell in love with a member of the same sex, or of the same family, so be it. These, however, were not adults, and their relationship did not begin until after they had suffered the loss of multiple other family members. Watching the way they looked at each other and the way they interacted, it was clear to her that they did indeed care very deeply for one another, and that they were "happy."

"Have you considered telling your mother?"

Lincoln and Luna both shook their heads. "Nah, she'd probably flip," Luna said.

"Yeah, I'm not looking forward to that," Lincoln said.

"But you should tell her," Dr. Lopez said, "as soon as possible. If you're both committed to this relationship, you should want to bring it to the next level. Right now you're hunkering in the dark as it were. Surly you want to take the next major step and come out to your family, right? Maybe your mother and siblings will react poorly, but it's best to meet that obstacle head-on. In fact, I think you should tell her right now."

Luna paled. "I-I don't know."

Lincoln shook his head.

"I think you owe it to yourselves – and to your family – to be honest and forthright about this. Tell your mother and see where things go from there. She's going to find out eventually. It's best that she hear it from you than find...I don't know, you two in bed together one day. This is an important milestone, getting it all out in the open. Knowing where you stand feels much better than dreading."

To her surprise, Luna sighed, looked at Lincoln, and said, "I'm game if you are."

Lincoln worriedly chewed the bottom of his lip for a second, then said, very weakly, "Okay."

Dr. Lopez nodded. "I'll go and get her."

She got up and went into the waiting room. Rita was looking at her phone, and glanced up. "Can you come back here for a moment?"

"Oh, of course," Rita said. She dropped her phone into her purse, slipped it over her shoulder, and got up. In her office, Dr. Lopez pulled an extra chair from a corner and sat it against the wall, facing her and the Loud kids, who both looked terrified. Rita felt the tension, and stiffened in her chair.

"Lincoln and Luna have something they'd like to tell you," Dr. Lopez said, settling back in her seat.

For a moment, neither of the Loud children spoke. Lincoln looked ahead and Luna, leaning forward with her forearms resting on her knees, wrung her hands. Finally, Luna sighed and looked up. "Mom...me and Lincoln...are in love."

Rita jerked as if slapped, her hand flying to her mouth. Luna quickly looked back down, and Lincoln took her hand.

Blood pounded in Rita's temples. Her heart blasted against her ribcage. The world blurred out of focus, and she felt dizzy. She tried to open her mouth, but nothing came out.

"Mrs. Loud," Dr. Lopez said, "I know this must come as a shock, and I completely understand how you're feeling. I had my suspicions after our first meeting, but I did not voice them because I could very well have been wrong, and I didn't want to cast any shadows on Lincoln and Luna."

Rita nodded. "I-I suspected too." She tried to look at her son and daughter, but couldn't. "I guess I was just in denial." She started to cry then.

"Mom," Luna said, worried. She got up and went to her mother, kneeling by her side. Rita shook her head.

"My world's gone absolutely crazy," she sobbed. "First the accident, then Lana, now this...I don't know what to do anymore."

Dr. Lopez nodded, then looked to Lincoln and Luna. "Can I have a minute alone with your mother, please?"

Luna stayed where she was for a moment, then got up. She opened the door and waited for Lincoln to hobble out before exiting herself and closing it.

Rita Loud fought to get her sobbing under control. "What do we do?" she asked miserably.

Dr. Lopez sighed. "I wish I had an easy answer for that, but I don't. After the accident, I believe each of your children, in their own way, felt...I think the accident made them realize how fragile life is and how much they loved each other. I see that most readily in Lucy. With Lincoln and Luna, I believe that increased sense of familial love was...twisted. Maybe it had to do with them being so close in promiexty during the aftermath. Maybe it could have happened to literally any one of your other children. I really don't know. I do know that they have come to a point where even if that is the case...they don't care. They are able to name qualities in the other that they are attracted to, and they feel very little innate shame at what they are doing. In essence...this might not be a situation that therapy can remedy."

"What are you saying?" Rita asked.

"Let me ask you this: Had you and Lynn Sr. come in here, and I pointed out _why_ you were in love, would that have changed your feelings for him?"

"No," Rita said, "but that's different, he wasn't my brother."

"It _isn't_ different. At least not to Lincoln and Luna. We can sit here and tell them why their relationship is wrong until we're blue in the face, but if they feel for each other, that's not going to help. They've broken through the wall of self-stigma and are comfortable with the fact that they are 'together'. They didn't want to tell you and they might not want to tell the entire world right now, but they're quite content and don't feel ashamed. We may not be able to approach this from the perspective of them being related, because that doesn't matter to them. They are young and they are 'in love.' Surely you remember the feeling."

"Lynn was the only man I ever loved."

"But there had to have been others that you _thought_ you were in love with. I realize now that I've only ever loved my husband, but when I was fourteen, I thought I loved the boy next door. And when I was in college I thought I loved my roommate's brother."

Rita nodded. There _had_ been others before Lynn that she ignorantly thought she loved.

"A relationship when you're fifteen might seem like it'll last forever, but it rarely does. You grow up. You and whoever you're seeing grow apart as people. Maybe it's painless, maybe it's pain _ful,_ but it usually dissolves. My primary concern is how the dissolution of their lover's relationship might affect their family relationship."

Rita shook her head. "So you're saying I should just...let this happen?"

"There may be no other course. I'm hoping that as time passes and they heal from the accident, they will realize that their love was a temporary reaction to trauma, that they'll wake up and go back to being just brother and sister. Overreacting, separating them, punishing them, scolding them could serve to push them closer together. You should set ground rules, to be sure: No being alone together behind closed doors, whatever measures you would take if one of your other daughters had a boyfriend over. But you should not confront them, you should not isolate them, you should be nothing but cautiously supportive."

"Isolate them? I couldn't do that. I love them regardless."

"I know you do, but after a stunning revelation like this, it's easy for things to become awkward. Don't let that happen. Make sure that the dynamic of your relationship with them does not change, because that may do more damage to them than anything else."

Rita let the doctor's words sink in. "I understand," she said.

* * *

Rita did not speak to her children in front of Harold McBride, at least not about...that. She did, however, make it a point to talk to both of them, trying exceptionally hard to affect a natural tone. She would sit down with them, separately, when they got home. She was not looking forward to it.

Before home, Harold drove them to the grocery store. "Do either of you want to come in with me?" she asked, looking into the rearview mirror.

Lincoln and Luna looked at each other. Worry was written on their faces. They knew that the hammer would drop eventually, though they most likely expected it to be worse than it actually would be. The fear in their eyes broke her heart. She thought of the many times she had seen them asleep together, and shuddered. She didn't know if they'd...done anything, and she didn't _want_ to know. She hoped not. That was something they could probably never come back from, living with the knowledge that they...slept together.

"I'll come," Luna said.

"I'll stay."

"Alright." Rita got out, and she and her daughter crossed the parking lot. The heat of the day was intense, the sun bathing their skin like acid. Inside, the air was cold, so cold that goosebumps raced up Luna's arms. She stole a furtive glance at her mother; though she had been trying to go on as if she _didn't_ know, the air was tense between them.

Rita got a cart from near the door, and they walked side-by-side. "What would you like for dinner tonight?" Rita asked her daughter.

Luna shrugged. "I don't know. It doesn't matter."

Rita thought for a moment. "How about shepard's pie. Isn't that Mick Swagger's favorite."

"I don't know," Luna said, "you'd need a lot of hamburger meat."

"That's fine," Rita replied. She was cooking for three fewer people these days. Upside to losing your husband and two daughters: Your grocery bill went down. Rita shuddered. That did not make her feel better.

When they were done, they went through the line and then out to the car, where Luna helped her mother load the groceries into the trunk. Five minutes later, they were home. Lincoln squeezed Luna's hand, and she squeezed back. They both knew their mother would take them aside. She had to. No way around it. Neither knew what to expect. Would she yell? Would she separate them forever? Luna didn't think she could stand that. And neither did Lincoln.

Inside, Luna helped her mother put away the groceries, hoping she would take mercy on them if she was a good daughter. Anything, she thought, anything, just please don't take Lincoln away from me.

"Alright," Rita said, sticking the family sized package of hamburger meat into the fridge. "That's it. Thank you, Luna."

"You're welcome."

Luna waited a moment, expecting her mother to say something else; when she didn't, she went into the living room and sat on the couch. Lincoln was sitting on the opposite end, staring at the TV but not seeing it. His stomach roiled with anxious terror. He glanced at Luna, her eyes worried, and flashed a tight smile. He was beginning to regret agreeing to tell their mother.

After what seemed like eternity, Rita came into the living room and sat down between her children. "Luna, can I talk to Lincoln alone for a minute?"

"Yeah," Luna said smally. She got up and went around the back of the couch, squeezing her brother's shoulder, then disappearing up the stairs.

Lincoln's heart thundered. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for what was about to come.

"Lincoln...I love you, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, mom," he said, "I love you too."

Rita put her hand on her son's shoulder. "I'm not...I'm not mad about...it. I'm not exactly happy, and I won't pretend that I am...but I'm not mad at you or your sister. I'm not going to punish you and I'm not going to keep you away from one another." Rita sighed heavily. "There are going to be some changes, though." She glanced at her son. "From now on, you two are not to be alone behind closed doors together. I don't want you home alone together. If there is any..." Rita tried to force the word out of her throat, but it was lodged. "...sexual activity, I _will_ separate you somehow." She looked pointedly at Lincoln, who nodded silently.

Rita ran her fingers through her hair. They were trembling. "If you and Luna are going to...to be together, I expect you treat her with respect and dignity. I expect you to be a gentleman." She stopped. She was going to say _I expect you to not engage in sex_ , but she'd already brushed that topic once, and, God, she didn't want to do it again. She didn't want to think of it.

"She's not allowed in your room and you aren't allowed in hers. When you are together, you must be here or in the kitchen. If you want to go out together...we'll talk about that later." She stopped, collected her thoughts. "Lincoln...Luna will always be your sister. Whatever happens between you...whether you work out or not...that doesn't change anything. You can't walk away from her like you can some other girl. She will always be there."

Lincoln nodded. "I know, mom. I won't."

Rita squeezed Lincoln's shoulder and got up. He listened to her footsteps ascending the stairs.

At Luna and Luan's door, Rita said, "Luan, honey?"

"Yeah, mom?" Luan was sitting cross-legged on her bed, her laptop balanced on her lap.

"Can you give me and Luna some privacy, please?"

"Sure." She closed her laptop, tucked it under her arm, and got up. As she passed, her mother mussed her hair. "Hey," she laughed, "I just brushed that."

When Luan was gone, Rita stepped into the room and shut the door. Luna was sitting on the edge of her bed, her gaze downcast.

"I'm going to tell you what I told Lincoln," she said. She came over to the bed and sat down. She rubbed her daughter's back. "I'm not angry with either of you. I can't say I'm pleased, because I am not, but I won't separate you. You're not allowed in each other's rooms anymore, you're not to be home alone. If you want to spend time together, you do it in the living room or some other common space. If you break these rules, you will be punished. If you...do anything sexual...I will end it. I don't know how exactly, but I will." She wrapped her arm around Luna's shoulder. "I love you. If this makes you happy, alright. I want you to remember something: You may love him, but he's still your brother. He will always be your family even if you two don't work out. Keep that in mind. I don't want your new relationship to one day ruin that, okay?"

Luna nodded. "I understand."

"Alright," Rita said. "Do you want to help me make dinner tonight?"

"Sure," Luna said with a smile.


	19. Living on the Edge

August 9. Lincoln sat on the examine table in Dr. Carson's office. It was in a brick-and-glass building on the hospital grounds, hidden behind the parking garage and a stand of trees. Rita sat in one of the hard plastic chairs, and Luna sat in the other. "It's gonna be strange seeing you without that big, bulky cast," Luna said awkwardly. Neither one had figured out how to act when their mother was around. Could they hold hands? They didn't know, and neither was willing to ask, or brave enough to just do it and see what she said. Half the time they didn't even interact in her presence. In fact, Luna was counting on not coming to the appointment today, that morning, as she made breakfast and Luna brewed coffee, mom said, "I suppose you want to come to the doctor with us."

"It doesn't matter," Luna said noncommittally.

"I'm sure Lincoln would like to have you there."

That was all that was said on the matter.

"It's going to be weird not having it," Lincoln said. Dr. Carson had already come and gone, pronouncing Lincoln's leg healed enough that the cast could be removed and a smaller, more unobtrusive mesh brace applied. This one he could take off when he was lying down, which excited him. The constant sweating and itchiness was getting to him. He said as much, and added, "Remind me not to break anything else during the summer ever again."

"Hopefully you won't break anything again period," Rita said.

Momentarily, Dr. Carson returned. "Alright, Lincoln, let's get that thing off."

While Carson took the cast off, Luna thought back to the previous night. Alone in her bed, pining for her brother, she almost got up and snuck into Lincoln's room, breaking mom's cardinal rule. Her and Lincoln had talked it over, and they decided that sex wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth the chance that they might be somehow forcibly separated, and it wasn't worth hurting their mother any more than they already had. That was fine for them both, because while they enjoyed each other's bodies, their love was deeper than that. Still, when she lie in bed at night, she craved her brother's closeness, his warmth. Dr. Lopez may have had a point about codependence, but it was normal to want to hold and be held by the one you loved. In the end, she wasn't brave enough to risk it.

"Alright, that should do it," Dr. Carson said, stepping aside. Luna looked up. "Your leg looks a little thinner there, Linc," she said, smiling.

"The air feels good," Lincoln said.

"How about ice cream to celebrate?" Rita asked as they left the building.

* * *

Lynn Loud pulled her arm back, threw the football, and then ran ahead to catch it. Someone, however, had left their lucky plunger lying in the middle of the floor, and she tripped, going down hard. The ball crashed into a framed picture by the bathroom door; Lynn winced when she heard glass breaking.

"Damn it, Lana!" Lynn yelled, getting to her feet.

"What was that?" Leni asked, sticking her head into the hall. When she saw the picture lying on the carpet surrounded by broken glass, she let out a strangled cry. "Lynn!" She bent down and snatched up the ball, shooting Lynn a withering glance that actually made her fall back a step. "You've been told about throwing balls in the house!"

"I'm sorry," Lynn said, "can I have it back?"

" _Should_ you have it back? You're probably, like, going to do it again. Aren't you? What if that hit someone in the face?"

Anger rose in Lynn, and she clenched her fists. She started to tell Leni that she wasn't Lori and to stop acting like she was, but in a flash she imagined the hurt that would inflict on her. Was it worth it?

No. She was fully aware that she wasn't allowed to throw balls in the house; she knew the risk and she took it. It was ultimately her fault.

"You're right," Lynn said with a sigh. "I'm sorry. I was wrong."

Leni nodded then tossed the ball to Lynn, who caught it. "Please don't do it again. Okay?" She smiled widely, and Lynn couldn't help grin.

"Alright, I won't. What about Lana's plunger, though? I almost broke my neck on it."

Leni craned to see around Lynn. "Well," Leni said, thoughtfully. She then brushed past Lynn, picked it up, and said, "If she wants it back she can come get it. And apologize."

As if on cue, Lana appeared at the top of the stairs. "Has anyone seen my..." she spotted it in Leni's hands. "My lucky plunger! Thanks, Leni!" She came forward, but Leni held up her hand.

"Not so quick," Leni said. "This was in the middle of the floor and Lynn tripped over it. Granted she was concentrating on a ball and not where she was going, but still, she could have been really hurt. You have to be more careful with your things. There are, like, a bunch of other people who live here, not just you."

Leni's tone and the look in her eyes forestalled argument. "Sorry," Lana said heavily.

Leni smiled. "It's okay. Just be more careful next time." She handed Lana her plunger. "We still on for grasshopper hunting later?"

"Sure!" Lana said.

"Cool."

When Leni went back into her room, Lana and Lynn looked at each other. "Who was that?" Lynn asked.

"I don't know, but it looked like Leni."

* * *

Sitting on the couch was more comfortable than it had been a week ago, but still not as comfortable as it had been two months ago. Lincoln sat at one edge, his leg propped up on a kitchen chair. Luna sat next to him, her legs drawn up under her. The distance between them was only a foot, if that, but it felt much greater. Lincoln put his hand on her leg, and she smiled at him. "Hey," she said.

"Hey," he replied.

For a minute, neither one of them spoke. Then, Lincoln held out his arm, and she sank into him, resting her head on his shoulder. Having her there felt so good that he laid back his head and sighed.

"Six more weeks of crutches," Luna mused.

"Yeah," Lincoln said. "I'm just happy to know I'll be able to actually walk again."

"Me too," Luna said, "though I kind of liked taking care of you." She looked up at him. "You were so helpless. It was pretty pitiful."

"Shut up," Lincoln laughed.

"It was cute," she said. "You were like a helpless baby who couldn't do anything on its own. Lilly could have beaten you up and you'd have been too weak and pathetic to stop her."

"You're a bitch," Lincoln said.

"Only to you."

"Oh?"

"You're special."

"I guess that's a good thing."

On the stairs, Rita watched Lincoln and Luna, an ache in her chest. They were so cute together, but that didn't change the fact that they were siblings. She sighed heavily. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair that a brother and sister should fall in love, and that's what this was, love. Maybe not _true_ love, but what certainly passed for love when you were young and everything was brighter, every emotion sharper. It was almost as unfair as the accident that took her husband and two of her daughters, the accident that shoved Lincoln and Luna together in the first place. She wondered for a second. What if this _did_ last? What if it wasn't puppy love or mixed up feelings, or what if it really _had_ started that way, but was building to become more? What if her son and daughter continued this into their late teens? Into adulthood?

She tried to imagine, but couldn't, because she already knew what she would do: Love and support them, even if she didn't agree. She could at least take solace in the knowledge that she and Lynn had raised them, and that at the end of the day, they could both do worse.

Crazy. Her world was crazy.

But at least she still had it. For a little while on that early June day, as she sat anxiously in the back of a taxi on the way to the hospital, she thought that she had lost it. Right now, a crazy world was better than no world.

Swallowing hard, she descended the stairs and went through the living room without acknowledging Lincoln and Luna. She didn't have the heart to break their cuddle up, and she didn't want them to think she was trying.

* * *

As twilight pooled in the back yard, they sifted through tall, brown summer grass. Leni, Lana, and Lisa, who had taken to spending more time with her two older sisters. When she wasn't with them, she was with Lilly. Prior to the accident, she took care of her youngest sibling out of pure obligation. Now she took a special joy in it. Her research had taken a backseat in recent weeks. It would be there when she wanted to pick it up again, her family might not be.

"Found one!" Leni cried out, and Lana and Lisa both came over.

"Whoa, he's a big one," Lana marveled.

"Fascinating specimen," Lisa said. She took it and held it in her hands. It spit brown juice on her fingers. "Grody," Lisa said, and she and her sisters laughed.


	20. The End

"Lana says you drove all the way to the end of the block," Rita said.

"I did," Lisa replied, taking a bite. "I was even considering crossing the street, but figured I'd save that for another day. Baby steps, Dr. Lopez says."

They were sitting at the dining room table in the soft glow of an overhead light. Rita scanned the faces of her children, and for the first time in two months, the three empty spots didn't make her want to cry. Luan was healthy (though she suffered insomnia), Lincoln's leg was getting stronger every day, Lana was adjusting to the loss of her twin and no longer blamed herself, Leni was acting more like a Big Sister than she ever had before and didn't have as many nightmares, ditto Lucy, Lynn didn't get as angry as she once did, Luna and Lincoln did not cling to one another quite as much, though they held hands when they were together, and when they interacted, Rita couldn't help but see herself and Lynn Sr. when they young.

"Have you been working on detaching yourself from the memory of the accident?" Rita asked.

Lisa nodded. "I'm getting there. It doesn't terrify me to think of it anymore."

Rita smiled. _We're healing,_ she thought, and was so pleased that she swelled. There was still a long, hard road ahead of them, but they would make it.

Together.


End file.
